


Shenanigans and Hi-Jinks

by beeezie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: HPFT, F/M, Harry Potter Next Generation, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-04-06 01:30:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4202808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beeezie/pseuds/beeezie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><div>
  <p>Meeting banshees in the Forbidden Forest, setting the Great Hall on fire, and smuggling in contraband: Victoire and Fred Weasley are trouble with a capital T.</p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	1. Missing the Hogwarts Express

**Author's Note:**

> _all graphics by abhorsen. @ the-dark-arts.net (me)_

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victoire and Fred really should have left Diagon Alley an hour earlier than they did.
> 
> _“Fred, you_ idiot, _who sets their watch slow?”_

Victoire and Fred would later tell their parents that they had left Diagon Alley at 9:30am on the morning of September 4th, which should have left them more than enough time to get to King’s Cross to make the Hogwarts Express.

In reality, it was more like 10:25am when they exited the Leaky Cauldron.

“You know they’re going to kill us if we miss the train,” Victoire had said to Fred as they made their way down the street.

Fred had given her an easy smile and said, “Oh, don’t worry. We’re not going to miss the train.”

They missed the train.

Victoire would later blame it on Fred for jinxing them. Fred would blame Victoire for spending an extra ten minutes in Flourish and Blotts absorbed in a book that detailed the author’s encounters with a variety of magical beasts and the near-mortal wounds he had suffered as a result. Victoire would counter that Fred really hadn’t _needed_ those extra trick sweets, and it would have been just as easy to order them, and that standing in the queue had set them back five very important minutes.

In the end, it didn’t matter whose fault it was, because as they sprinted into King’s Cross, hoping against hope that Fred’s watch was at least five minutes fast, they were confronted with the very unpleasant sight of their parents leaving the station.

Fred grabbed her hand and pulled her into a group of muggles. “What, like our own parents won’t recognize us?” she hissed.

Fred gave her a disgusted look. “At least I’m _trying_ ,” he snapped.

As they walked by the clock, Victoire glanced up at it. It read 11:13. She groaned. “Fred, you _idiot,_ who sets their watch _slow?”_

He looked from his wrist to the clock. “Oh. That is what I did, isn’t it? That was stupid of me.”

She glanced over to the doors. Their parents were gone. “Now what do we do?”

“Be thankful our trunks were with them?” he suggested, and she laughed despite herself. The situation they were in right now was bad. If they’d had their trunks, it would have been so much worse.

“Do you happen to have Floo powder on you?” She was not surprised when he shook his head. “Damn.” Victoire edged past a large group of people who looked so awestruck by the station that they had to be tourists to lean against a wall where she could examine the contents of her bag without getting jostled. However, when she checked her purse, she found that she had about ten Sickles, which was nowhere near enough to buy some.

She looked up at Fred, who had a rueful expression on his face. “I’ve got nine Sickles. I spent all my money this morning.”

Victoire leaned back against the wall. “Yeah, I have ten. We’re not getting anything with that, and I can’t get into our vault at Gringotts without Mum or Dad with me.”

“Neither can I.” She was just beginning to think that they were going to have to go to their aunt Ginny’s house and admit to missing the train when Fred’s face lit up. “Hey, here’s an idea: let’s go to Teddy’s. We know he’s still in the country, we saw him last night.”

She blinked several times as she processed what he was saying. The idea of Teddy having his own place – in _London_ , no less – was just _odd_ , and she wasn’t really used to it yet. “Fred, you are a _genius.”_

“You’re just figuring that out now?” he asked as they made their way out of the station.

Half an hour later, they were standing in front of the red brick building. “Now what?” she asked.

“It was my idea to come here,” Fred said reasonably. “Now it’s your turn.”

Victoire sighed. The trouble was, while they knew Teddy’s address, they had no idea what his flat number was. “Well, let’s go inside. Maybe there will be some list in there.”

Fred looked skeptical, but followed her up the stairs and through the door at the top.

There was no list. There were several rows of red mailboxes set into the wall just past the vestibule, but while the name “Teddy Lupin” was on one of them, the mailbox did not give his flat number.

She looked at Fred, who had gone over to peer at one of the doors to a first-floor flat. “There’s no name on this, either,” he said, looking over at her.

Victoire stifled a groan. “I don’t fancy knocking on each individual…” her voice trailed off. A tall and balding man had just emerged from one of the doors further down the hall.

“Let’s ask him,” Fred suggested.

Unfortunately, the man had no idea who Teddy Lupin was, but once he had ascertained that they were really a witch and a wizard, he pointed them to the wall at the end of the hall and told them that they could just walk through it to find the landlady. Sure enough, when Victoire and Fred had plunged through the wall, they found themselves in a bright room with an enormous fireplace on the far wall and a desk with a woman sitting behind it on the near one. After she was satisfied that they were indeed Teddy’s friends, she directed them to a flat on the fourth floor.

Standing in front of it, Victoire was starting to feel nervous. It was entirely possible that he was still asleep, or wasn’t home, or—

“Here goes,” Fred muttered as he knocked.

They waited for a minute, and then Fred knocked again. This time they heard a door open inside. The locks on the front door slid back, and Teddy yanked it open. He had clearly just gotten out of the shower; his hair - today a vibrant, eye-blinding orange - was still soaking wet, and he was only wearing a pair of trousers.

He looked positively bewildered to see them. “What are you doing here? Didn’t the train leave?”

Victoire grinned at him sheepishly. “Well, there’s a thing about getting to the station.”

He stepped back and ushered them inside. When they’d entered the flat, he closed the door behind them and the locks reengaged automatically. “Which is?” he asked, going into what had to be the bathroom, judging by the steam drifting out of it and the towel that he emerged with a moment later to dry his hair with.

“We kind of already did,” Fred said. “And we missed the train.”

Teddy lowered the towel and stared at them. “Wait, are you serious?” They nodded. “You actually missed the train?” They nodded again, and he threw back his head and laughed. “Merlin.” He tossed the towel back into the bathroom and opened the door directly across the hall from it. Victoire peeked inside and saw him rummaging around in a chest of drawers for a minute before taking a shirt out and pulling it over his head. “What, and you didn’t fancy admitting it to your families, so you decided to come bother me?” he asked, rejoining them.

“Pretty much,” Victoire admitted. “It’s really only that we’ve missed you so much, with you not being at school anymore.”

Fred latched onto this train of thought immediately. “We really have,” he said earnestly as Teddy motioned them into the kitchen. “We must have just decided subconsciously that we couldn’t bear a second year of getting on the train without you.”

Teddy rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Right.” He opened the fridge to pull out a carton of eggs and a package of bacon. “Are either of you hungry?”

Victoire and Fred exchanged a look. “Yes,” they said together.

Teddy snorted. “Well, it won’t be food off the trolley, but it probably won’t be terrible, either. Are either of you thirsty?”

When he’d finished, he divided the eggs, bacon, and toast among three plates and waved his wand to levitate them over to the table. They settled very gently, and he looked pleased with himself.

Victoire picked up her fork and immediately began to eat. Teddy had definitely been selling himself short – this wasn’t just not-terrible, it was quite good. She and Fred both finished before Teddy, and he looked bemused. “Hungry, were you?”

“Starved,” Fred said. “That was great.”

“Come make me breakfast every day.”

He rolled his eyes as he popped his last piece of bacon into his mouth. Once he’d swallowed, he said, “All right, Vic. When you finish up at Hogwarts, come be my roommate. I’ll make you breakfast every day if you’ll do my laundry.”

She grinned. “Sounds good to me.”

He smiled back and picked up his wand. With a quick flick, he moved the dishes from the table to the sink, and with another wave, the water turned on and the sponge began to wash them on its own. He turned back to them. “What are your plans for the rest of the day?” he asked, motioning for them to follow him into the living room.

Victoire glanced at Fred, who shrugged. “We don’t really have any,” she said, walking over to the shelf that held a number of framed photographs. Many were of his grandmother and her uncle Harry’s family, but she also spied several of him with his friends, and, to her surprise, a few of her.

She glanced over at him. He had settled into the couch, and Fred had opted for a deep burgundy armchair. “I feel special,” she informed him. “I didn’t think I was worth more than one photograph on your table, and you have three.”

Fred glanced at him curiously. Teddy rubbed the back of his neck and smiled at her. “Oh, come on, Vic, you know I love you.” She felt an odd leaping sensation in her stomach, and she went over to join him on the couch.

“How many pictures are there of me?” Fred asked, cocking his head to the side.

“One,” Victoire said. “From when we went ice skating last winter.”

“With you?” She nodded, and he let out a snort. “Figures. I’m really hurt, Teddy. I feel unloved and unwanted.”

Teddy rolled his eyes. “I’m sure,” he said dryly. “It’s really not a big deal.”

Victoire wondered briefly why he was taking their teasing at all seriously, but put it out of her mind. Teddy could be a bit odd sometimes. Not that she didn’t love him - she did – but sometimes, he really could be a bit odd.

Teddy looked away from her and asked, “So how were you planning to get to school?”

Victoire and Fred exchanged glances. “Well, we’re kind of poor,” she said.

“And by kind of, she means very,” Fred added. “We’ve got nineteen Sickles between us.”

Teddy let out a laugh. “So you want to borrow some money?”

“Or Floo powder,” Victoire said quickly. “We were thinking we could just Floo to the shop, and hope that nobody notices that we weren’t on the train.” He raised his eyebrows, and she added, “No adults, I mean.”

“I’m an adult.”

“No, you’re Teddy.”

He surveyed them both for a minute, and then heaved a sigh. “All right. I’ll give you the Floo powder to get you to the shop.”

“Thank—” Victoire started to say, and he held up a hand.

“It’s not a big deal. Really.” He glanced over at the clock. “You realize that you’re going to have a lot of time to kill, right?”

“Unfortunately. I’m sure we can find something to do with ourselves, though.”

“Well…” Teddy drew out the word. “I guess I _could_ take you up to the magical menagerie Bren’s been working at. I think they have a special dark creature exhibit going on.”

Fred shot upright. “Yes,” he said. “I like that plan.”

“Vic?”

“Yes,” she agreed. “I like that plan, too!”

This was going to be so much better than the Hogwarts Express.


	2. The Magical Menagerie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Teddy takes Victoire and Fred to a magical menagerie.
> 
> _“I wouldn’t bring you somewhere where you could get killed by a basilisk’s stare, Vic.”_

The first exciting thing about going to the menagerie was that after a brief moment of consideration, Teddy decided that the best way to get there was probably Side-Along Apparition. People tended not to use Side-Along Apparition with underage witches and wizards - children usually got sick, and there were always concerns about teenagers _getting ideas_ from it - but Teddy seemed to dismiss both of those concerns.

“I don’t even think I _have_ enough Floo powder to get us there and get you to school afterward,” he told them as he scrutinized his appearance in the mirror hanging next to the coat hooks. “I don’t use Floo powder that often, and I don’t really want to go through the trouble of buying more. You’ll be learning how to apparate this year, anyway.” He screwed up his face, and his hair turned brown. “Best to avoid bright colors,” he explained, stripping off the red shirt he’d put on when they arrived and bending over to go through the laundry basket sitting under the mirror. “Some beasts can get set off by them.”

Victoire felt her face get hot. There was quite a lot of shirtless Teddy happening that day, and she wasn’t quite sure what to do or where to focus her eyes. It seemed awkward to refuse to look at him, but she didn’t want to stare, either.

He straightened up, black shirt in one hand. “Vic, are you okay? We don’t have to go.”

She jerked her head up and tried very hard to focus on his face - just his face. “No, I want to! I just - yes, I want to.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Fred glance at her. “Teddy, she wants to go, she just feels awkward because you don’t have a shirt on.”

“Oh.” He yanked it over his head, and Victoire let herself exhale. “Better?” Nodding seemed like the path of least resistance, so she nodded. He smiled at her, and she felt her face start to get hot again. “Let me just grab a jacket and we’ll go - it can get chilly underground. Fred, you’re good with the sweatshirt? Vic?”

She hesitated. “Do you have something I can borrow?”

“Sure.” He disappeared into his room and re-emerged a few minutes later, carrying two jackets. “Here,” he said, handing one over to her. When they left the flat, Victoire was startled by the number of locks that automatically engaged once he’d shut it - had there been that many when they’d gotten in? Before she could ask him about it, though, he was on his way down the stairs. After exchanging a quick greeting with his landlady in the back room, he held a hand out to each of them. “Ready?” They both nodded, and Victoire felt a sudden tug in the pit of her stomach before the room vanished.

As soon as her feet hit stone, her legs buckled. After a few moments, the nausea passed enough for her to look up. Fred was doubled over, his hands on his knees; it was comforting to know that it wasn’t just her. “I’m okay,” he said hoarsely when Teddy rested a hand lightly on his shoulder. “Water? Is there anything to drink?”

Teddy jerked his head to the side, and Fred lurched off in that direction. “You okay?” he asked Victoire, kneeling down. “Sorry - I know it can be a bit rough the first time. It’ll pass in a few minutes.”

She forced a smile onto her face. “Got to learn it sometime, right? Help me up.”

Nausea or not, the lobby took her breath away. The archway shielding them from the overcast sky was a massive stone dragon stretching its wings. Even from her vantage point twenty-odd feet feet below it, she could see the painstaking detail and attention with which the artist had carved it; even the veins stretching across the dragon’s wings were faint but clearly visible. The ticketing area was nestled next to where the enormous stone tail met and trailed into the ground.

Teddy turned out to be right; the nausea had passed by the time he’d secured the tickets. Before either Victoire or Fred could say anything, he said, “Just say thank you and move on. You don’t need to pay me back, and I’m still getting you Christmas presents.”

Victoire closed her mouth and exchanged a look with Fred, who was chewing on his lip. “Thank you,” Fred said after a long pause.

“You’re welcome.” Now that she was closer, she could see that the enormous stone tail vanished into a hole rather than solid ground, and wrapped around the stairs leading into the dim light. Teddy gestured to it, and Victoire hurried down the stairs.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust at the bottom, but even after they did, her skin continued to crawl. The light was dim, and the only noise were the echoes of her cousin’s and Teddy’s descending footsteps on the stairs and a howling wind that seemed to be whipping through the corridors without really reaching them. As Teddy had warned, it was chilly even at midday in early September; she shrugged on the jacket he’d given her and shoved her hands deep into its pockets.

“Hey,” Fred said softly. His fingers brushed against her shoulder, and she jumped. “Sorry. I - this is a bit creepy, isn’t it?”

She nodded. Down the corridor, she could see a shimmer. Excitement overwhelmed the clammy feeling on her palms, and she hurried up to the glass pane. Bright, neon-green letters lit up when she stopped: _Do not lean on glass._

By the time her vision had readjusted, Fred and Teddy had caught up with her. The words flashed again, and she cursed as the spots reappeared on her vision. It was like she’d been staring into the sun. “Fuck, will they _stop_ that?”

“No,” Teddy said soberly. She looked over at him. “It’s a warning, and trust me. You don’t want what’s in that cage getting out.”

She narrowed her eyes and peered into the darkness. There was a rainforest inside. It was lush, very green, and beautiful in the perpetual twilight. Despite the appearance of peace, however, there was something that felt undeniably _wrong_ about it. As she stared into the scene, she could swear that the shadows were moving of their own accord, and she found herself double-checking that her wand was still in her pocket, even though she knew logically that she was perfectly safe.

“What’s in there?” Fred’s voice was soft.

“Watch the shadows.”

Her gaze was drawn to a shadow that seemed blacker than the others; as she watched, it flitted from beneath one tree to a bush with no apparent tether to an object. With a start, Victoire realized what it was and clapped a hand to her mouth. “That’s a _lethifold,_ isn’t it?”

Fred’s eyes widened, and he took a step backward.

“Yes.” Teddy jerked his head toward the sign to the right of the glass. There was a button; once Fred reached over to push it, a glowing blue description etched itself into the air just to the side of the cage.

“Wow,” Victoire breathed. She looked back into the case, but the shadow had vanished into the brush, and despite studying the shadows closely for another ten minutes, it didn’t reappear.

That made her skin crawl even more.

After that, the three of them wandered. Fred was fascinated by the erkling, and Teddy stared into an apparently-empty cage for a long time. She couldn’t see anything obvious in the enormous clearing, but she felt strange asking him; something about the look on his face told her that this was a good time to leave him alone.

She had one more real shock shortly before they left. She was peering into a damp stone chamber filled with what she initially took to be a massive stone statue - until the coils rippled and began to move.

Victoire let out a shriek and jumped back. Firm hands closed around her arms before she could trip over her feet. “Hey,” she heard Teddy say softly.

She let out a whimper without taking her eyes off the creature in front of her. She could feel her heartbeat in her neck, and once again, she found her fingers clasped around her wand in the borrowed jacket’s pocket. She hissed as creature lifted its head to reveal two sunken holes where she’d expected to see bulbous yellow eyes. The injury clearly wasn’t recent; scar tissue had formed, and the basilisk didn’t seem particularly perturbed by its blindness. Its tongue flicked out of its mouth, and it began to slither across the stone floor.

“What happened to it?” she breathed, leaning into Teddy’s comforting hold. Her heart has still hammering. “They didn’t do that _here,_ did they?”

“No. That’s part of why it’s here - no one’s really been able to definitely say how anything got close enough to take out its eyes like that in the first place. This is a research facility, not just a menagerie.”

“Wow.” She realized suddenly how very _close_ his body was to hers now that she’d leaned back, and took a deep breath to steady herself.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice still low.

“Yeah. Yeah, it was just - just startling.” She didn’t move; the snake was still gliding across the floor. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“I know you weren’t.” He squeezed her arms once and then let her go. “I wouldn’t bring you somewhere where you could get killed by a basilisk’s stare, Vic.”

“I _know,_ I just…” She glanced over her shoulder at him. To her relief, he was smiling.

“It’s one thing to know it in your mind, and another thing to feel it?” She nodded. “Yeah. That’s not a bad thing, you know. It means you’re paying attention.”

She was saved from having to respond to that by Fred, who’d wandered over to see what she’d been so transfixed by. “Holy _shit,”_ he said as the snake passed close to the glass. “Are both of its eyes like that, or just this one?”

Victoire was sad to see the day come to an end; when they ascended the stairs back into the sun, she found herself wishing that it was much higher in the sky than it was. Even if they got caught and ended up with several detentions apiece, this would have been worth it.

Teddy checked his watch. “You don’t need to head to Hogsmeade _quite_ yet - are you both up for Apparating one more time?”

“Yes,” Fred said immediately. Victoire reached out to grab Teddy’s hand.

Their friend grinned. “Yeah, I thought so.”

They had just enough time for a cup of tea and a snack before they had to troop back down to the lobby and its fireplace. When Fred got up the nerve to ask why Teddy’s fireplace wasn’t connected to the Floo network and why they couldn’t just Apparate from inside the flat, Teddy had shrugged it off as a holdover from his grandmother’s home growing up. Fred clearly caught the subtext as well as she did; he winced and immediately dropped the subject.

They lingered in front of the fireplace in the back room. “This was fun,” Victoire said. “Thanks for humoring us.”

“Uh-huh.” Teddy shook his head, but he couldn’t stop the smile spreading across his lips. “Your parents are going to _kill_ me if they find out.”

Fred reached over the clap him on the shoulder. “Probably, but just think about the undying gratitude you now have us. We’re N.E.W.T. students now, you know. We’re moving up in the world.”

That made their friend snort. “Uh-huh,” he said again. “You should have enough time to get there, but you’d better go now if you don’t want to get caught.” He exchanged a quick hug with Fred. “Don’t blow up our tower,” he warned. “I may not be there anymore, but I’ll still take it personally.”

Fred grinned as they parted. “No promises.”

Teddy turned to Victoire, opened his mouth, and closed it again. She threw her arms around him, and after a moment, she felt him fold her into a tight embrace. “I’ll miss you,” she said softly. “Write to me?”

“I will.” She felt him sigh. “I’ll miss you, too, Vic. Try not to get expelled.” After another moment, he loosened his grip, and she pulled back.

“No promises. Oh - your jacket. I almost forgot.” She started to slip it off.

He put a hand on her arm to stop her. “No, it’s fine. It might be cold when you get there - did you want me to try to meet you for your first Hogsmeade weekend?” She nodded. “Then I’ll just get it from you then.”

“Okay.” She hugged him again. “Thanks again.”

He took a deep breath as they parted. “Anytime,” he said. “Really. And good luck.”

After he’d exchanged another hug with Fred, he jerked his head toward the fireplace. “Get going.” He passed over a small pouch of floo powder. Victoire threw a pinch into the fire before handing the pouch to Fred, stepped into the flames, and said, “Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, Hogsmeade branch!”


	3. Arrival at Hogwarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which meeting the train in Hogsmeade could certainly have gone better.
> 
> _“Is there any particular reason the two of you decided not to ride the Hogwarts Express today?"_

“I know Micah and Lex are going to kill us, but that was a lot more fun than the train,” Victoire said, stretching her arms above her head. They were slowly meandering toward the train station, hoping to slip in among everyone else before anyone - other than their family and friends, presumably - noticed they hadn’t been there the whole time.

“It was,” Fred agreed. “Though I’m a little surprised Teddy didn’t kiss you goodbye. I bet he would have if I hadn’t been there.”

Victoire stopped dead in the street. _“What?”_

Her cousin glanced back at her and grinned. “Oh, come on. He wanted to.”

“No he didn’t.”

“Yeah, he did. I’m a guy, I know these things.”

“He _didn’t,”_ she insisted, though Fred’s conviction was sparking a sudden wave of interest.

“Yeah he did. Just look at how long it took him to put on the new shirt when he changed - he _wanted_  you to be looking at him. I mean, fair enough on his part, he's a fit guy, but that's what he was doing." She felt her face start to get hot again. "And the jacket thing?"

She glanced down at the oversized jacket she was still wearing. "He thought it might be cold here!"

"And smelling your hair when he hugged you goodbye?"

Now she reached out to shove him gently. “He was not.”

He snorted. “Sure he wasn’t. Come on, we don’t have enough time for you to just stand here.”

She fell back into pace with him. “He wasn’t,” she insisted. “Doing any of that, I mean. And smelling my hair would just be _weird.”_

Fred snorted. “Yeah, well, Teddy’s a little weird sometimes. Kind of a creepy gentleman, I guess - he’ll smell your hair, but not ogle you. Though I’m pretty sure he did that, too - he was just subtle about it.” She made a face at him, and he held up his hands. “Vic, I’m a guy. I notice it when other guys do these things.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I just do. And I especially notice it when they do it to _you._ ” When she cocked her head to the side, he added, “Well, I’ve got to know who I’m supposed to beat up for being gross. It’s kind of my job, since I’m the oldest guy.”

“What about Teddy?”

“Teddy’s not a Weasley - which is good, since he definitely wants to sleep with one.”

Victoire considered addressing that, and decided to go with something far more straightforward instead. “I can beat people up on my own.”

“Yeah, I know. But it’s the chivalrous, overprotective thing to do, so I’ll save you the detentions.”

Victoire only bit back a smile with difficulty. She wasn’t quite sure she _liked_ the overprotective silliness Fred was talking about, especially since she was pretty sure that at least part of him actually meant it, but his good moods tended to be infectious even when they were ridiculous, and she supposed that there were probably worse things than Fred being a little overprotective.

“So why aren’t you beating up Teddy?”

Fred shrugged. “Well, Teddy’s a good sort overall. I’ll let it slide.”

She shoved him again. “You’re ridiculous. Whose heart are _you_ planning to break this year?”

He screwed up his face while he thought about it. “Dunno. Any suggestions?”

Victoire considered that. “What about Lexy?”

Fred wrinkled his nose. “No,” he said quickly. “Lex is my _friend._ I can’t date my friends, that never ends well.”

“Ended well for your parents. _And_ for our aunt and uncle. And-”

“Fine - it _rarely_ ends well. And I don’t think I could like her that way, anyway - I like my girls taller and with a nicer figure.” He winced. “Er - don’t tell her I said that.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

They were nearing the station when he said, “What about Juliet? You know, in your house?”

The delivery seemed a little _too_ casual, and Victoire had a feeling he'd been waiting for an opportunity to bring Juliet up. She bit her lip. She shared a dormitory with Juliet, and she liked her, so she didn’t want to be disloyal… but still, it had to be said. “I don’t know, Fred. She’s a little… well… silly. Especially for a Ravenclaw.”

“Perfect. I’ve got enough intellectual types in my life - you and Micah will drive me crazy if I don’t get some relief from your analyzing every damned thing ever. And anyway, sometimes I just want to kiss someone. Even someone who's a little silly.” He considered that. _"Especially_ someone who's a little silly."

“Spoken like a true Gryffindor.”

“I _am_ a Gryffindor. And I like her.”

Victoire gave up. Her cousin had gone through his growth spurt in his third year, so he was already taller than most of the girls at school; he was, according to everyone in her dormitory, very attractive; he was a Quidditch star; and he was an absolutely shameless flirt. _Everyone_ liked Fred - including Juliet, who’d spent more nights than Victoire could count giggling about him that past spring. Unless she’d found someone else over the holidays, she’d be absolutely thrilled, and Victoire would definitely be in for a long run of uncomfortable gossip as she was trying to sleep.

But she could hardly dissuade Fred from pursuing a girl just because she didn’t want to hear more giggles late at night about his kissing. Or whatever.

There was nothing else for it - she’d just have to put up with it. Or cast a spell blocking out the sound and hope there wasn’t an emergency.

“So,” Fred said, snapping her out of her thoughts. They’d reached the station. “What do you reckon? We hide behind the trees and just slip in when everyone gets off?”

Victoire made a face. Once he’d said it out loud, it didn’t seem like as good a plan as she’d originally thought, but she couldn’t really see another option. “Have a better idea?”

“Unfortunately, no.” They clambered off the platform. Once the Hogwarts Express pulled in ten minutes later and the students had begun to stream off, they fell into step with the rest of them. Victoire saw her sister ahead of them, but before she could call out to her, they heard two very familiar voices. When they turned around, they found Micah and Lexy, who had both their own trunks and Fred and Victoire’s trunks in tow.

“Wish you’d warned us before you’d decided to play hide and seek on the train ride,” Micah drawled. His tight blond curls had been cropped close to his head since she’d seen him at the beginning of August. “You hid yourselves very well. We were searching, too, weren’t we, Lex?”

Lexy smiled sweetly. “We were. We thought you’d at least appear to get your trunks, but when you didn’t, we decided we’d humor you, because hide and seek really is _such_ a wonderful game. We’ve been missing it since we stopped playing when we were, you know - seven or eight.”

“We’ll let you take over your trunks now, though.” Micah waved his wand and let Victoire’s trunk clatter to the ground with a loud thump. Lexy did the same from Fred’s trunk.

Victoire had to admit that they both probably deserved their friends’ ire. As soon as they’d climbed into one of the carriages, both sixth-years turned to them and demanded, “Seriously, what the hell happened?”

Fred shrugged. “We missed the train.”

Lexy goggled at him, as though she couldn’t quite believe how blasé he was being about the whole thing.

Micah did not suffer from a similar lack of words. “Yeah, we noticed. How the _hell_ did you manage to do that?”

“Lost track of time.”

“So what did you do instead?”

Fred stretched his long legs out. “Oh, you know. This and that.”

Micah turned his attention to Victoire. She grinned mimicked Fred’s position. “Like he said. This and that.”

Lexy kicked Fred. It was a fairly gentle kick, as these things went, but he finally grinned and took them off the hook. “We went to go bother Teddy. He fed us and then took us to this magical menagerie his friend works at. Then we floo’d to the shop.”

This did not seem to appease their friends very much, though it did succeed in momentarily sidetracking Lexy. “Teddy Lupin, huh?” she asked. Victoire could see her dark eyes gleaming even in the dim light. “Now I’m even more jealous. He’s _fit,_ isn’t he?”

Victoire shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know,” she said after it became clear that an answer really was expected of her. “I guess, yeah.”

“Well, I’m just saying - _I_ wouldn’t mind following him around for a day.”

Victoire had no idea how to respond to that, so she mumbled a noncommittal, “Mm.” Fred, who’d clearly picked up on her discomfort with the subject, quickly changed the subject.

They’d really begun to think that they might have gotten away with it when they got out of the carriage and fell into step with the rest of the students, who were streaming through the doors and heading for the Great Hall. Then they saw their respective heads of house, Professor Longbottom and Professor Goldstein, and stopped dead.

“Damn,” Fred muttered.

“Is there any particular reason the two of you decided not to ride the Hogwarts Express today?” Professor Longbottom said mildly when they’d reached him. “We weren’t notified of your absence, and neither, it seems, were your parents.”

Neither of them said anything. Victoire was hoping beyond hope that they were just guessing, or that they might let them off the hook just this once -

“Come with me.”

Victoire exchanged a look with Fred, and they fell into step behind Professor Goldstein. “Damn,” she echoed softly. In trouble before term had even started; this was the first time they’d managed that.

On the bright side, though, they didn’t appear to be heading toward the Headmistress’s office, which was probably a good sign.

She hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter! A couple points of clarification:_
> 
> _In my headcanon, each dormitory has a bathroom attached to it. I can't see any other reasonable way to accomodate so many students, especially if you want to give them any privacy. I also don't have a standard number of students in a year or have houses evenly split along gender lines - the castle is magic, I'm sure they can expand the rooms to fit enough beds if they need to. :P_
> 
> _Thank you so much for reading, and as always, I'd love to hear your thoughts if you wouldn't mind taking a moment to leave me a review! ♥_
> 
>  
> 
> _Branwen_


	4. Missing the Feast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Professor Goldstein knows Victoire entirely too well and Fred asks one of her roommates out.
> 
> _“Before I decide what exactly to tell your parents, I would like to know whether you were being delinquent or merely careless.”_

As soon as they entered Professor Goldstein’s office, both men pointed at chairs in front of the professor’s desk. “Sit,” they said together.

Victoire exchanged a nervous look with Fred.

“You were not on the train,” Professor Longbottom observed, perching on the desk. “Why was that, exactly?”

Victoire usually liked Professor Goldstein’s office. She’d always felt a little smug that Ravenclaw’s Head of House was one of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professors, and it had also turned out to be quite convenient for her - Defense Against the Dark Arts was one of her favorite subjects.

Right now, though, it felt far more intimidating than it had any real right to. The heavy black fabric hanging over the mirror to the right of the desk rippled with an invisible breeze

“Er - we missed it,” Fred said after a moment. “By accident.”

The two men exchanged a look, and Victoire realized, with a sinking feeling, that she was going to get the brunt of the interrogation this time. She was fairly certain that it wasn’t particularly fair, but Fred had taken the blame for the lake water they’d charmed to explode out of all the knights on the first floor after final exams the year before, so she probably owed him one.

“Detention,” Professor Longbottom said after a moment. “For each of you.”

Neither of them objected; it was probably the best they could have hoped for. “Please, sir,” Fred said quickly. “We want to see our cousins get sorted.”

Professor Longbottom studied them for a moment and jerked his head toward the door. Fred bounced to his feet, but before Victoire could do the same, Goldstein’s sharp voice cut through the sound of her cousin’s footsteps. “A word, Ms. Weasley.”

Fred paused at the doorway and glanced back. Victoire shook her head at him, and he let Professor Longbottom steer him out of the room.

Goldstein settled behind his desk. “Ms. Weasley.” His dark eyebrows were drawn together so far it almost looked at though he had a unibrow. Victoire resisted the urge to giggle with difficulty. “As Professor Longbottom pointed out, you should both know better, and as you are beginning your N.E.W.T.s this year, it would - behoove you, shall we say - to take things a little more seriously.”

“I try, I really do. It’s just so _difficult.”_

Goldstein looked as though he was only holding back a smile with difficulty. When he spoke again, though, the humor had left his eyes. “Where were you and your cousin today?” he asked.

“Oh, you know. Just killing time. Around.”

He fixed her with a stare that made her squirm uncomfortably as only her favorite professor could. It was the ‘I’m very disappointed in you’ stare, and it was, Victoire felt comfortable saying confidently, _the worst._

“Where were you?” he asked again. “Before I decide what _exactly_ to tell your parents, I would like to know whether you were being delinquent or merely careless.”

Victoire winced. She would have liked to take umbrage to that, but Goldstein knew her too well for it to work. He’d had a very stern talk with her toward the end of the previous year when he’d found that she’d taken out all the library books on becoming an animagus and had correctly surmised that she had aspirtations of becoming one herself. If he was worried about potential law breaking, she should probably come clean.

Especially since she hadn’t really given up on the animagus thing yet.

“We really _did_ miss the train,” she told him. “Unintentionally, I mean. Then we went up to a new magical creature menagerie. We went with - with a friend.” Goldstein raised his eyebrows, and Victoire sighed. “Teddy.”

“Teddy Lupin?” She nodded. “If I asked him -”

Victoire held her hands up. “He’d tell you. I swear.” Goldstein seemed to relax a little. “I thought you said you’d asked our parents where we were.”

“I lied.”

She wrinkled her nose. Goldstein could be like that sometimes, and it was too hard for her to judge when he was lying for her to call a bluff, especially since he usually _wasn’t_ bluffing. She supposed it was probably the Auror training coming out in him - he’d worked with her uncles for several years before returning to Hogwarts to teach - and even Victoire knew better than to tangle with an Auror.

At least face to face. Being really sneaky about it tended to work as often as it didn’t, though.

She wasn’t quite sure what she _should_ say in response to his admission, though, so she changed the subject entirely. “Can I go to the feast now?”

“No.” He reached into his desk and pulled out two pieces of parchment. “While you’re here, we should talk about your classes.”

Victoire slumped back in her seat. “Everyone else got to go to the feast,” she muttered. _“Fred_ got to go to the feast.” Her stomach had just given a particularly loud rumble.

“Everyone else didn’t miss the train and fail to notify the staff,” he said mildly. “And Mr. Weasley is not in my house. Have your thoughts about possible careers changed much over the summer?”

“I dunno. I’m still thinking of doing something with magical creatures, I guess. I don’t much like dragons, though.”

He tapped the parchment with his quill as he considered that. “Have you heard of the D.C.B.?” he asked.

Victoire frowned and straightened a little in her chair. “No. What is it?”

Goldstein was staring at the wall somewhere to her left, clearly deep in thought. “It’s a division in the Ministry,” he said. “It replaced the old Committee for the Disposal of Magical Creatures a few years after the war ended. One of my old classmates transferred from the Aurors to head it, actually - Seamus Finnigan? I’m not sure you know him.”

Victoire shrugged. “Sort of, I guess.” She’d met the man a couple times at Ministry functions honoring various aunts and uncles, but she had very little memory of him other than pronounced scars that crisscrossed his arms and that she’d sensed some real intensity underneath his veneer of good humor.

“Well, he’s expanded the division pretty significantly - they’ve got about fifteen people now. They deal with dangerous creatures - not the nonsense the old Committee did, they do things like controlling the dementor population and clearing out acromantula nests.”

Her ears perked up, and she leaned forward. “Oh?”

“It’s not for everyone,” he told her. “Seamus’s second in command is… she changed a lot after the war, and she can be a little… intense. Brave, very loyal - she’s actually another old classmate - but… she takes some getting used to.”

“Oh.” Victoire wasn’t quite sure what _that_ meant, but one of her aunts or uncles would probably know. She was fairly certain her uncles Harry and Ron, at least, were still fairly good friends with Seamus Finnigan. “I - that sounds interesting.”

Goldstein turned his attention to her O.W.L. grades. “If you want to pursue that -”

“I do, I think.”

He nodded. “You’ll need to continue Defense Against the Dark Arts, of course, and take Magizoology - it’s a bit of a cross between Defense Against the Dark Arts and Care of Magical Creatures, I suppose. I’d strongly suggest Charms as well. Are there any other subjects you’re particularly interested in?”

Victoire considered that. “Transfiguration,” she said after a moment. His eyes narrowed, and she fought to keep her expression perfectly innocent. “And… I don’t know. Is there anything else I should take?”

“Medical Magic wouldn’t hurt, and neither would Herbology. You have the marks to do either, if you want to. I hesitate to suggest it, knowing what you and your cousin might do with the education, but you might have an aptitude for the Making of Magical Artifacts, too, though a word of warning - it would make your Thursdays hell.”

“Herbology,” she said after a minute. “I wouldn’t have to brew potions for the D.C.B., would I?”

“No. They’re not the Aurors - they have the good sense to go straight to St. Mungo’s for that.” He made a couple quick notations on the parchment and then put his quill down. “Since you’re insisting on carrying on with Transfiguration, _I_ am going to insist that we revisit our conversation from the end of last year.”

Victoire dropped the air of innocence. “I told you, sir, I was just curious about the theory.”

He laced his fingers together and rested them on his desk. “And as I told _you,_ while I generally don’t like to accuse my students of lying to me, your track record doesn’t inspire confidence.” She felt her face flush, and he sighed. “Victoire,” he said tiredly, “the Ministry keeps track of people attempting to become animagi for a reason. It’s a hugely complicated spell that can go horribly wrong, particularly for a sixth year.” 

She opened her mouth, and he held up a hand to forestall her.

“And, even if you _were_ able to master it - and that’s a big if - becoming an unregistered animagus is highly, _highly_ illegal. It gives the witch or wizard who masters it tremendous power. Your family’s good will - and your professors’ endorsement of your character - can only go so far.” He held her gaze for a moment. “You don’t need to respond. Just take this as a warning.”

Victoire looked down at the floor. Her head of house was entirely too perceptive about these things sometimes.

“So.” He began to speak in a normal tone again, and when she glanced up, he looked less like he was getting a headache and fighting the urge to massage his temples. “Defense Against the Dark Arts, Magizoology, Charms, Transfiguration, and Herbology?”

She nodded.

He made a final note, waved his wand over a piece of parchment with the sixth years’ schedule on it. Many of the boxes denoting class meetings vanished, and he handed it to her. “Let’s go down to the feast. I’ll decide what your detention will be later.”

“Yes, sir.”

She followed him to the door, but before he opened it, he glanced back at her. “Pass what I said along to your cousin, please,” he told her. “I doubt you came up with this idea on your own.”

He turned around and led the way down the hall before she could respond, which was probably just as well.

Predictably, the Sorting was long finished, though Victoire did spot both Albus and Rose sitting at the Gryffindor table. Fred raised his eyebrows at her when she made her way to the Ravenclaw table. She made a face and mouthed “tomorrow,” and he winced.

She slid in next to Micah, who passed her a plate of food. It was lukewarm, but at least he’d saved her some - the platters were nearly empty. “Thanks.”

“You were up there forever. What’d he do, lecture you about being an N.E.W.T. student and being held to higher standard?”

“Just about,” she admitted. _“And_ he made me set up my class schedule.”

Micah whistled. “Wow. He must have been pretty annoyed with you.”

She shrugged. Micah was one of her best friends, but she hadn’t confided in him about her aspirations of becoming an animagus - you had to be careful who you shared secrets that dire with, because once you said it, you could never take it back. She didn’t see herself talking about it with anyone but Fred for awhile.

Once the feast was over, she followed her siblings up to the Common Room; Dominique and Louis were almost as put out as Micah and Lexy had been about their missing the train, and the price for their forgiveness seemed to be a thorough accounting of what she’d done. Dominique was particularly interested in the dragon sanctuary adjacent to the menagerie - after interrogating their uncle Charlie about his job over the summer, dragons had become her latest obsession.

When they finally headed off to join their friends, Victoire barely had the chance to look around before Micah dropped into the seat they’d just vacated. “I think your dormitory is going to be a little - er - interesting tonight.”

“What? Why?” She looked around, but the only one of the girls she shared the sixth year girls’ dormitory with that she saw was Carolyn Birch, who was curled up on a couch in the corner with seventh year Wendy Morrison.

Micah ran a hand through his hair. “Did you know Fred was interested in Juliet?”

The smile slipped off her face immediately. “Oh, god, what happened?”

“He stopped her and Savannah as they were leaving the Great Hall and said… something, I don’t know what. I’m sure you’ll hear when you head up. She got really red and started giggling, and then he kissed her cheek and followed Holly upstairs.”

Victoire groaned and let her head fall back against the chair. _”Shit.”_ Micah looked a little startled, and she sighed. “No, I knew, but I thought he’d wait until we at least started classes.”

“Nope.” Victoire sighed. “It’s not the most tempting solution, but if you want to come hang out in our dormitory for awhile, you can.”

“No.” She glanced toward the stairs to the girls’ dormitory again. “I’ll go face the giggles.”

He made a sympathetic face, and she headed upstairs.

Predictably, as soon as she walked in, she was besieged.

“Victoire, did you _hear?”_ Juliet’s blue eyes were shining, and she was beaming ear to ear. “Did you _know?”_

It would have taken a far harsher heart than Victoire’s to dismiss her very excited friend. “A little, and sort of. What happened?”

She settled onto the dark blue bedspread beneath the drapes of her four poster bed. Juliet perched next to her as she pulled off her shoes.

“Well,” the other girl said, “Anna and I were leaving the Great Hall after dinner, and Fred stopped me. Then he told me he’d been planning to ask me to Hogsmeade, but the first weekend was so far away, so did I want to meet him by the lake tomorrow after classes end instead.”

“And _then,”_ Savannah said, sitting down on her bed, which was adjacent to Victoire’s, “when she said _yes,_ he _kissed_ her.”

“It was only on the cheek,” Juliet clarified. “It’s not that big a deal.” Her smile - which had, if anything, gotten broader - belied that particular dismissal.

“Yes, it is!” Brianna clambered over Savannah’s bed to nudge Juliet. “It was _so sweet._ I’m jealous.” Pamela cleared her throat from the doorway to the bathroom - judging from the towel in her hands, she’d just taken a quick bath - and Brianna quickly added, “But I’m also really happy for you, of course!”

Pamela wrung her long dark hair out in the towel and tossed it back into the bathroom before coming over to join them. “Did you know?” she asked Victoire curiously.

Victoire shrugged. “I mean, I knew he was interested in Juliet, but I had no idea he was planning to say anything _tonight.”_

Juliet latched onto that very quickly. “Oo, what did he _say?”_

Victoire hesitated. “I shouldn’t betray the confidence,” she said finally. “I wouldn’t like him betraying mine. You know how family is.” Juliet’s face fell a little. “He _does_ like you, though, and he asked me about you.”

Her friend’s smile widened again, and she wrapped Victoire in a very tight hug. “I have a date with Fred Weasley!”

Victoire decided not to question her definition of the word ‘date,’ and resisted the urge to clap her hands over her ears. Juliet’s voice was becoming progressively high-pitched. She was happy that her friend was so thrilled, but she did wish that the blond girl was capable of being thrilled at a slightly lower decibel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: For people who have read my other next-gen fics - as I'm sure you've gathered, yes, Micah is indeed remembering correctly. Gallagher is Van's youngest brother.
> 
> Also, a point of clarification - in my headcanon, each subject has three professors: one for first/second years, one for third/fourth/fifth years, and one for sixth/seventh years. (Some sixth/seventh year professors teach more than one subject, though - e.g., potions and alchemy.)
> 
> It makes logical sense to me; if one professor teaches all seven years, that leaves them with hundreds of students and a packed schedule. And, drawing up master schedules in which one professor taught all seven years was absolutely impossible, especially since I wanted two sections of the core subjects for N.E.W.T. students, because that would mean that students wouldn’t be put in a position of having to choose their subjects based on schedule conflicts.
> 
> Thanks for reading! I’d love to read your thoughts if you’d care to leave a review. ♥ Most of all, though, I hope you enjoyed this.


	5. Fred and Juliet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the other sixth years set up their schedules and Fred has a date with Juliet.
> 
> _“Oh, yes. There was quite a lot of ‘I have a date with Fred Weasley’ and ‘Isn’t Fred so handsome?’ and ‘Have you seen his arms?’ It went on for about an hour.”_

To Victoire’s surprise, there turned out to be a bright side to missing most of dinner the evening before: she didn’t have to rush through breakfast like the rest of the sixth years. It was a fairly hollow consolation prize, as she was sure Goldstein had meant it to be, but at least it was something. Once Micah and the rest of her yearmates had trooped off in disgust, she moved down the table to sit with her brother. Now a third year, he was still a little more reserved than she’d have liked. There wasn’t anything _wrong_ with being quiet, of course, but it had made it more difficult for him to make friends over his first two years at school - if their cousin Lucy hadn’t been in his year, Victoire wasn’t sure he’d have found his niche at all.

“I’m meeting Lucy and Evy and Andrew in the library after classes,” he told her when she inquired about his plans for the day. “We’re going to try to get a head start on classes.”

Victoire hid a smile with difficulty. She really didn’t think that any of them _needed_ to get a head start on classes - they’d been toward the top of their year in most of the end of year exams the year before, and while she didn’t know Evelyn Greengrass or Andrew Nott well at all, her limited observation was that they’d seemed far too responsible and serious for second years.

The four of them could use a little more fun and rule-breaking in their lives, but she certainly wasn’t going to be the one to suggest it to them. She’d have both her parents and her uncle to contend with if she started leading well-behaved Weasleys into rebelling; she and Fred gave the family more than enough trouble, and James and Roxanne had done their best to live up to that legacy the year before.

Victoire had a leisurely start to the day before reporting for Transfiguration at 10:45. Fred was already there, and he grinned when she dropped into the seat next to him.

“Did you get the lecture on becoming an animagus?” she asked, taking care to keep her voice soft.

“You know it.” He made a face. “You’re going to get us expelled with that, you know. Or thrown into Azkaban.”

“You don’t have to do it with me.”

Her cousin shrugged. “I’m a follower, what can I say? You’re a bad influence.”

“Like you need a bad influence.” That got a grin out of him. “So did you finally decide on your classes yet?”

“Nope,” he said cheerfully. “I only signed up for Transfiguration, Potions, and the Making of Magical Artifacts. Longbottom’s giving me until Wednesday to decide on the others. Oh, don’t give me that look.”

Victoire snapped her mouth closed. “What do you mean, _decide_ on the others? What about Defense Against the Dark Arts?”

“I mean… it’s not going to be particularly useful to me, I don’t think. Charms would be more useful for artifacts, herbology would be more useful for potions, and alchemy would be really interesting on its own. I’ve only got room for two as it is. It’s a shame, though - apparently Goldstein is taking over the NEWT classes. That’s really the only thing that’s giving me pause.”

Victoire tried to remember whether Goldstein had mentioned that particular piece on information the night before. She didn’t remember it if he had. “But he’s been doing the O.W.L. classes for _years!_ Why the change?”

“Dunno.” Fred nudged her. “Maybe he wants to keep an eye on certain students who are aspiring to break the law.”

Micah sped in shortly after that, and after a very interesting first transfiguration lesson, the three headed downstairs together. Fred hesitated for moment before following them to the Ravenclaw table. Out of the corner of her eye, Victoire saw him scanning the Ravenclaws for Juliet, and she bit back a giggle.

“So what’d Goldstein suggest to you?” Micah asked over the buzz of chatter that was steadily building throughout the Great Hall. “For after Hogwarts, I mean.”

Victoire twirled a lock of hair around her finger as she thought. “He mentioned something - the D.C.B.?”

Micah’s brow furrowed. “I’ve heard of that before. Oh! Didn’t Gallagher’s oldest brother go into that?”

Victoire tried to think back. She vaguely recalled their friend Gallagher Dedworth, a fellow sixth year in Slytherin, mentioning _something_ about his brother working in a small Ministry department, but she couldn’t remember any details other than that it sounded fascinating. “I don’t know. I’ll ask him.”

Fred was still looking for Juliet. “Juliet’s not down here yet,” Micah said loudly.

Fred glanced at him. “I wasn’t looking for her. What’d you end up signing up for?”

“Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, and Medical Magic. I was going to take Defense Against the Dark Arts, but you couldn’t pay me enough to sign up for another two years with Goldstein. I like him, but he’s a nightmare as a professor. I might do Alchemy instead - I haven’t decided yet.”

Fred perked up at that. “Oh, do alchemy. I will if you do.”

Micah considered that. “All right,” he said after a minute. “I’ll talk to Goldstein after classes end for the day.”

Victoire made a face. After a moment, though, she felt her cousin’s arm wrap around her shoulders. “Cheer up,” he said. “I’ve decided to do Goldstein’s two years of hell with you, too.”

“Since _when?_ You said an hour ago that it wouldn’t be very useful to you!”

“It won’t, but Micah’s right - Goldstein’s a nightmare as a professor.”

“No, see, that’s a reason _not_ to sign up,” their friend said. “I can see how you’d get confused, though.”

“Well, I’ve never much liked the quiet.” He glanced up the table again.

Micah and Victoire exchanged grins. “Hoping to catch a little face time with someone before your big date by the lake?” Micah asked.

“Oh, shut up.”

As it transpired, when Juliet finally traipsed in with Brianna and Carolyn fifteen minutes later, she blushed furiously, said a brief hello, and then settled in about halfway down the table. Fred looked rather disappointed, and Victoire patted his arm in a comforting sort of way. “It’s okay,” she said. “You’ll see her during your _date.”_

He shot her a dirty look.

“Do you want to meet me in the library after your date?” Victoire asked Fred as they headed up to Charms after lunch.

“Er - yeah, sure. 6?”

“Sure.” Victoire suspected that he would not, in fact, be ready by then, and made a note to herself to bring something to do in anticipation of his being late. 

As she’d suspected, Fred was late. She hadn’t expected him to push it much past fifteen or twenty minutes, though, so when he sped in at 6:40, she was consequently more than a little annoyed.

“Sorry,” he panted. His face was shining with sweat; he’d clearly sprinted upstairs. “I got - er - wrapped up.”

“Mm.” She stuck a bookmark in _The History of Indigenous Mediterranean Magical Creatures._ “How’s Juliet?” Her cousin’s face broke into a broad grin, and Victoire sighed. He looked too cheerful to stay annoyed at him, lateness or no. “It went well, then?”

“You could say that.” He ran a hand through his hair, which looked particularly unruly now, though Victoire didn’t remember it being so at lunch. “Oh, come on, Vic, I’m not that late.” He swiveled in his seat to glance at the clock on the library wall and winced. “Oh, I guess I am pretty late. It’s almost time for dinner.”

“You set your watch slow again?”

He held his wrist up. “No, I fixed it. Aren’t you proud?” When she let out a snort of laughter but was otherwise unmoved, he made a face. “I’m sorry. I really did lose track of time. I didn’t think I was that late.”

“It’s fine.” Victoire cast a critical eye over her cousin. He was uncharacteristically flushed, and she didn’t think it was just from running up to the library - Fred was too athletic for that. “How high pitched is she going to be when I get back to my dormitory?”

His brow furrowed. “High pitched?”

“Juliet. She can get _very_ high pitched when she’s excited. Last night I thought she was going to rupture my eardrums.”

“I hadn’t noticed.” She raised her eyebrows, and Fred adopted a look of complete innocence. “Fairly,” he admitted when it became clear that she wasn’t going to budge. “You’re right, she _is_ a little silly. I don’t mind, though.”

“Uh-huh.”

He reached across the table to nudge her forearm. “So she said something last night?”

“Oh, yes. There was quite a lot of ‘I have a date with Fred Weasley’ and ‘Isn’t Fred _so_ handsome?’ and ‘Have you _seen_ his arms?’ It went on for about an hour.”

He leaned forward. There was a small smile on his face. “What about my arms?”

“Muscles.” He glanced down at his forearms. Before he could say anything, she snapped, “For god’s sake, Fred, can we move on?” He jerked back in his chair, the smile sliding off his face, and she bit her lip. “I’m sorry,” she said before he could push back the chair and walk away.

He didn’t say anything, but he stayed where he was.

“I just heard _so much_ about this last night, and I’m sure tonight she’ll be talking about your lips and how your arms feel wrapped around her - right?”

He shrugged. Victoire took that as a yes.

“And everyone else is going to be encouraging her to talk _more_ about you except maybe Carolyn and Pam, and it’s just… there’s only so much I want to hear about it.”

“I’m your _cousin.”_ His voice was at least as irritated as hers was. “Are you seriously telling _me_ to shut up because your dormitory likes to gossip? That’s really shitty, Vic. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Victoire winced. He wasn’t wrong, and she didn’t think he was putting on a show - he seemed genuinely hurt. “No, Fred,” she said. “Of course not. But…” She trailed off; his expression was making her feel thoroughly guilty. “Why do you want to talk to _me_ about it?”

“Good question.” He still looked stung, though his tone was quickly veering into being sarcastic and defensive. “I guess - _idiot that I am_ \- I value my best friend’s opinion, and I’m curious to hear what she said about me, and _unlike_ her, I live with a bunch of guys who can be complete assholes. I don’t care what she tells _her_ friends and who they repeat it to, but girls tend to be a little more sensitive about that sort of thing, and I don’t trust some of _my_ friends to keep things to themselves. I’d rather not open the door for them to make my girlfriend feel like shit.”

Victoire knew that there were more pressing parts of Fred’s monologue for her to address, but she couldn’t stop herself from asking, “She’s your girlfriend now?”

“I don’t know, Vic. Probably, yeah. That’s not the point.”

“I know.” She sighed. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just - they’re _awkward.”_

“Am _I_ awkward?”

“No!”

“So tell _them_ to tone it down, not me.”

There was entirely too much sense in that for her to argue with it, and she hated to see her generally easygoing cousin look so hurt. “Okay. You’re right. I will. I’m _sorry,_ Fred.” She hesitated. “What were you asking about?”

A much brighter, more genuine smile flashed across his face, and he scooted his chair in, leaned forward, and lowered his voice. Victoire still felt a little awkward about the subject, but his sudden good cheer was worth it. She resolved to broach the issue with Juliet rather than snap at him again about his budding relationship. He wasn’t wrong, and she could tolerate occasional sullenness on Juliet’s part far better than she could from her best friend.

He snapped his fingers in front of her face, and she started. “Earth to Vic. What’re you thinking about?”

Victoire shook herself. “Nothing. Just - you really _are_ my best friend, you know. And I love you.”

Fred regarded her carefully. “Good? I’m not sure where that came from, but I love you, too.”

Something she’d been mulling over in the back of her mind fell into place. “Do the boys in your dormitory say gross things about _me?”_

He blinked a few times. “Ah - is there a reason you keep changing the subject?”

“Fred, I’m serious.”

He sighed. “Yeah,” he admitted after a moment. “Or they used to. I don’t know whether they still do, but they don’t do it around me. I think they want to avoid repeating the Teddy situation.”

“The Teddy situation?”

“You know. All the fights.” She shook her head. “Oh, you didn’t know? I thought you did. Yeah, his seventh year, he got into a lot of fights because he thought people were being ‘inappropriate’ about you. I really never told you that?” She shook her head. “Oh. Well, he did. They eventually learned to shut up. I’d rather not encourage them to talk about my girlfriend like that or to start up again about you. _That’s_ uncomfortable. Come on, this isn’t very interesting to talk about - let’s head down for dinner.”


	6. The Forbidden Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Victoire and Fred wander into the Forbidden Forest to alleviate their boredom.
> 
> _“Damn it, Vic, I_ told _you to leave that comb alone.”_

Victoire was gratified to discover that finding a girlfriend had not stunted Fred’s sense of adventure. The first week was not yet done and they were still waiting to be assigned their detentions when Fred found Victoire in the library with Micah one evening.

“So I’m starting to get bored.”

Victoire grinned and dropped her quill to the table. “What did you have in mind?”

He glanced around. There was a group of third years working two tables over from them, so he lowered his voice. “Well, I was thinking that we should wait until we’re done with our detention before we actually _inconvenience_ people, so -”

Micah cut in. “Since when do _you_ care about ‘inconveniencing people?’” he asked.

Fred, to his credit, maintained his composure quite admirably. However, Victoire and Micah had been playing Exploding Snap in the Ravenclaw common room the night before near the couch where Juliet was regalling several of their yearmates about how very _sweet_ her _boyfriend_ was and how good he was at kissing.

Victoire hadn’t gotten the chance to talk to Juliet yet, but since her yearmate wasn’t revealing anything particularly uncomfortable in the first place and there’s been no expectation of a reply from her, Victoire had let Micah cajole her into seeing the humor in it all.

The incident had left them both in no doubt about why Fred might want to step a little more carefully at the moment and avoid further detentions.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Fred turned to Victoire before their friend could make another jibe. “What would you say about a trip to the Forbidden Forest tonight?”

Victoire didn’t even have to consider it. The Forbidden Forest had magical creatures. That was more than enough reason for her to want to sneak into it as often as possible, particularly at night - that was when most of the more interesting creatures came out, anyway. “Yes.”

Fred glanced at Micah, who made a face. “This is all on you,” he said. “If I get detention my first week back, _I’ll_ get a howler. I’m not as lucky as you are.”

To neither Victoire’s nor Fred’s surprise, their respective Heads of House _did_ write to their parents about the matter of their missing the Hogwarts Express. Both had received strongly worded letters from home, but thankfully, neither of them had parents who’d ever been much inclined toward howlers in the first place.

Micah was not so lucky. Victoire wasn’t sure that they were as much of a deterrent that his mothers clearly _wished_ they were, but it usually took him the better part of September to remember that he really didn’t care very much if the school heard them yelling at him. He’d always gotten well over it by Halloween, and that was what was important.

“Guess it’s just you and me, then.”

Fred’s grin got broader. “Even better - no one to slow us down.” Micah smacked his arm. He ignored it.

They met just outside the castle shortly after midnight. The moon was starting to dip below the horizon, leaving them with nothing but the faint light still eminating from some of the windows to illuminate their path. They crept across the grounds until they reached the large, indistinct shape of the Forbidden Forest.

Once they’d gotten through the first layer of trees, they both muttered, “Lumos.” Even if someone _had_ been looking out at the forest, there was no way they’d see the light - the treeline grew thick quickly here, and in early September, the trees and bushes were still lush with spring and summer leaves.

They usually found interesting things in the Forbidden Forest. They weren’t always creatures - they’d once found a very scratched and dented grey car with what they were pretty sure was a pincer hole from an acromantula directly above the driver’s seat.

But, not surprisingly, they often _did_ find creatures. They’d bumped into a couple of very aloof centaurs on two different occasions, seen more unicorns, bowtruckles, and doxies than they could count, and they’d even encountered an ashwinder the previous year (though they’d been unable to salvage its eggs, much to Fred’s dismay).

Victoire had always been fascinated by magical creatures.

They crept deeper into the forest. After they’d been walking for about ten minutes, Victoire saw something glint to their right. “Hold on,” she said.

Fred stopped.

She stepped carefully around the roots protruding from the ground. Now that she was closer, she could hear the faint gurgle of a stream. She picked her way through the bushes to stand by the edge of the small running water. When she reached it and bent down, she realized that there was a small, silver comb laying on the ground. She wasn’t sure what it was doing laying next to a stream in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, but she put her hand out to pick it up anyway.

“Vic!” Fred burst through the bushes behind her, breathing hard. “What the _hell?”_

She didn’t even glance back at him. The more she studied the comb, the more intrigued by it she was; there were marks she’d never seen before etched across the top, and the teeth were rather longer and thinner than she’d expected.

She heard him move toward her at a slightly more sedate pace. “What are you looking at?” Before she could answer, he knelt down next to her and saw the comb. “Is _that_ why you came over here?”

“Mm.”

His voice took on an edge again as she reached out to pick it up. “Vic, I really don’t think you should touch that.”

“Why not?”

Fred’s swallow was audible. “You must have walked eighty feet to get here - you seriously saw this from over there?”

Victoire shrugged. “I saw something. It was probably just the water.”

“What, reflecting the nonexistent moonlight?”

She shot an irritated look his way. “No, of course not. The stars, I suppose. I don’t know, Fred, this place is filled with magic. Does it really matter?”

“How did it even get here?”

_“Magic,_ Fred. God, if I’d wanted a nursemaid, I’d have brought Molly.”

He ignored the rebuke. “Vic, it just seems like trouble.”

“We’re always looking trouble.” She reached out and picked the comb up before he could say anything else. It was lighter than she’d expected, and she slipped it into her pocket.

Fred sighed and straightened up. She did the same. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

They’d been walking for another ten minutes when Victoire heard a twig snap and whirled around. There was someone standing behind them.

The creature bore some resemblance to a human, but there was no danger that someone might mistake her for one, even in the dim light. She was taller than any woman Victoire had ever seen, and she was so thin that the outline of her ribcage was visible through a thin white dress that rippled as though it were being swept to and fro by the wind, though the night was still. Her long white hair was similarly affected by a phantom breeze, and her dark skin was tinged an eerie green. Her fingers were also spindly and at least twice the length of any human Victoire had ever met.

To say that the woman was unnerving would be putting it quite mildly. Victoire wished that she could see her a little more clearly; the dim light cast by her wand left a great deal to be desired, though the woman did seem to be emanating a faint glow.

“Vic!” Fred had realized she was no longer behind her; she heard his footsteps approaching, though she didn’t dare take her eyes off the woman in front of her. “For the love of -”

The footsteps stopped. She didn’t need to look at her cousin to know that he was as dumbstruck as she was, and the light from his wand blinked out.

The woman reached out a hand, and with a start, Victoire realized what had drawn it to them. She thrust a hand into her pocket and pulled out the silver comb. She held it out to the woman and she could have sworn she saw the corners of her mouth turn up a little.

“Don’t let her touch you!” Fred hissed at her as the woman took a step toward Victoire.

Victoire didn’t think that the woman meant her any harm, but she placed the comb carefully on the ground anyway. She took a few steps backward toward her cousin as the woman bent down to pick up her comb.

Fred reached out to grab Victoire’s arm and pulled her toward him as the banshee straightened. She regarded them steadily for a few heartbeats before turning and gliding back into the darkness.

“I told you.” Fred’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Damn it, Vic, I _told_ you to leave that comb alone.”

She shrugged. The banshee had definitely been the most unsettling thing they’d ever encountered in the Forbidden Forest, but it was far from the _only_ unsettling thing they’d encountered in it, and in Victoire’s opinion, Fred was being a bit overdramatic.

“I’m fine,” she told him as he started to pull her through the forest. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“I don’t know, I guess I left it somewhere by the _graveyard_ you so cheerfully ignored.”

“They don’t _kill_ people, you know. They just - they’re just _portents_ of death. And I don’t think she was foreshadowing anyone’s death tonight - we just happened upon her.”

“They’re still disturbing as all hell. Come on, let’s get _out_ of this forest.” He glanced behind them. “Now.”

Victoire managed to get back to her common room without incident when they returned to the castle, though she wasn’t sure Fred would be so fortunate - he was still clearly quite shaken from the encounter, and she’d had to give him a slight push up the stairs that led to the Gryffindor tower. She was a little disappointed in him - he was usually unmoved by these sorts of things, but she supposed he was probably more superstituous than she was. He’d probably be unnerved if he heard an augury, too.

It wasn’t until she was back in the girl’s dormitory and stripping off her clothing in the bathroom for a quick bath that she realized something was amiss. When her trousers hit the floor, something fell out of one of her pockets and clattered onto the marble tiles.

Her heart started to pound. If she’d had the presence of mind to think about it, she’d have been grateful that she’d returned to her dormitory before this discovery. As it was, every bit of her attention was focused on the silver comb as she gingerly picked it up off the floor.


	7. Wasted Research

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Victoire and Fred struggle to find verified information about banshees.
> 
> _“Do you want to tell me why you’ve been avoiding me? It’s pretty impressive, considering that we have at least one class a day together.”_

Victoire hated to admit when she was wrong, so it took her more than a day to broach the topic of the banshee with Fred again - and when she did, it was only because he’d cornered her.

She’d beaten a hasty retreat to the library after classes ended for the day. Her research the night before on what _exactly_ a banshee comb meant had been fruitless, but she had hopes that today would not be a similar waste of time. Three and a half hours later, she’d found absolutely nothing helpful, and when she glanced at the clock, she realized that she’d missed most of dinner on top of it.

She groaned and let her head fall down on the stack of books. She let it rest there for a minute, and might have stayed in the position for longer if someone hadn’t cleared their throat in front of her. She jerked upward and found her cousin standing there, arms crossed.

“Hi, Fred,” she said weakly.

“Uh-huh.” He rounded the table and leaned over her shoulder to examine the books she’d cast aside. __“Apparition or Creature? A Witch’s Guide to Magic’s Mysteries_ ,”_ he read. __“Nature’s Magical Artifacts and Oddities.__ __Magical Creatures of Hogwarts’ Forbidden Forest._ _ Wow, Vic, you’ve even got __Break with a Banshee__ here. You must be desperate.” He yanked the chair next to her out and collapsed into it. “Do you want to tell me why you’ve been avoiding me? It’s pretty impressive, considering that we have at least one class a day together.”

“I’ve been - er - busy.”

“So I see.” He rested an elbow on the table and examined her. “What’s going on?”

Victoire sighed and reached into her pocket. “I found this in my pocket the other night,” she told him as she held the comb up. His eyebrows shot up. “I don’t know how it got there. I’ve been trying to figure out what it means, but so far…” She shrugged. “Nothing.”

“I thought you gave it back.”

“I did.”

“I _told_ you not to pick that up.”

“I know.”

Fred scrutinized her for a minute. Just as she was bracing herself for a lecture, he leaned over to give her a one-armed hug. “You’re a pain.” As soon as he released her, he reached over and pulled the top book off the stack she hadn’t looked at yet. “Are you hungry?”

“Very.”

He reached into his bag and pulled out something wrapped in a bright red napkin. He passed it to her, and when she peeked inside, she found two sweet rolls. She breathed in deeply; they smelled wonderful. “I noticed you weren’t at dinner. Better put it away for later, though, or we’ll get kicked out of the library.”

She made herself smile. “Thanks. You don’t have to help me, you know.”

“Yeah, I do. Otherwise you’ll waste away in the library and I’ll die of boredom.” That got a faint smile out of her. He opened the book with unnecessary force and began to skim the table of contents. “I _told_ you not to pick that damn comb up.”

Both Victoire and Fred were given their detentions the next day, and they were equally dismayed to discover that they’d each be spending most of their Saturday cleaning the potions dungeons without magic. They didn’t even have the consolation of being together in it; Goldstein and Longbottom had ceded the assignment to Professor Dorny, and she’d directed them toward different dungeons. Victoire felt that she got the worst of the deal - Fred was assigned to clean the N.E.W.T. students’ dungeon, which was far cleaner than the one used by first and second years. Dorny had always liked Fred, though, who was one of the best in their year at potions, and she was notorious for playing favorites. Victoire was quite happy to be rid of both her and the stupid subject.

By the time she finished, Fred was, predictably, nowhere in sight. It was nearly time for dinner, so rather than head to the library, Victoire trudged up the stairs to the Great Hall, feeling thoroughly disheartened. The sight of Fred and Juliet sitting together at the Gryffindor table didn’t help matters; Fred looked to be in a good mood, which probably meant that Dorny had let him leave hours ago. She sat down next to Micah and Carolyn, still feeling very put-out.

Carolyn reached across the still-empty plates to squeeze her hand in sympathy. “You look terrible,” she said. She’d clearly been studying; her straight black hair was pulled neatly back, and she was still wearing her reading glasses. “What did they have you doing?”

“Cleaning the first years’ potions dungeon.” Victoire dropped her head into her hands and groaned. “And of course, Dorny gave Fred the N.E.W.T. Room, which he was probably finished with in about an hour. She’s so unfair.”

Micah shrugged, but he’d always been one of Dorny’s favorites, too. The smell of garlic and oregano began to waft through the hall, and Carolyn reached over to lift Victoire’s hair off the table just in time to save it from being covered in sauce. Victoire carefully pushed it behind her shoulders, and Carolyn shook her head. “Dorny’s always played favorites. Try not to let it bother you.” She glanced over Victoire’s shoulder and winced.

“What?”

“Juliet is going to make us both deaf tonight. Your cousin just kissed her, and now she can’t stop giggling.”

Carolyn’s opinion of Juliet was about the same as Victoire’s was: very sweet, but sometimes deeply annoying. Micah twisted around, but Victoire didn’t bother - she trusted the other girl’s judgment.

“You think anyone will notice if I sleep in Wendy’s dormitory tonight?” Carolyn asked.

Micah let out a loud snort. “I think someone will notice. If they’ve met Juliet, they may not fault you for it, though.”

“Hey.” A dejected-looking Lexy slumped into the seat next to Micah. “We just had four hours of practice, so right now I hate my teammates, and I was _supposed_ to hang out with Fred after dinner, but he’s clearly too busy with his shiny new blonde girlfriend. The world is really not my friend today.” She started loading her plate up with food.

Micah studied her for a minute. “You see the results from today?” She shook her head. “Arrows smashed the Falcons.”

Her head snapped up. _“What?_ How? What was the score?”

By the time they’d finished eating, Lexy’s mood had clearly improved significantly, and she allowed Micah to steer her off to listen to the Tornados-Portree game with their friend Gallagher without so much as a backwards glance at Fred.

Victoire was looking forward to calling it an early night, but Juliet trooped in with Anna before she’d even finished brushing her teeth. Two choruses of “He _kissed_ me, did you see?” and “I know, it was _so sweet!”_ was enough to make her follow Carolyn down the stairs when they other girl jerked her head toward the door.

The common room, for a mercy, was nearly empty when they emerged from the staircase leading to the girl’s dormitories; the only people still in it were a small group of fifth years playing rummy at a table by the window and a seventh year girl whose dark hair was twisted into dozens of small braids, many of which were curtaining the book she was completely absorbed in. When they approached her, though, she looked up and smiled.

“I thought you went to bed,” she said, holding a hand out to Carolyn, who took it and let her girlfriend pull her onto the couch. They exchanged a quick kiss.

Victoire settled into the chair across from them and wrinkled her nose. “We _tried,”_ she told Wendy unhappily. “But…” She trailed off, not quite sure what to say.

“Juliet still hasn’t calmed down about dating Fred,” Carolyn supplied.

Wendy winced. “Yeah, I heard her through the bathroom wall when I was getting ready for bed two nights ago. She’s a sweet girl, but I never knew anyone’s voice could _carry_ like that.” She began to run her fingers along Carolyn’s arm as the sixth year snuggled up to her. Not for the first time, Victoire wished that the girls they shared the dormitory with were more like Carolyn, who was capable of being in love without completely losing her mind. She hoped that _she’d_ be capable of the same self-restraint if it came to that.

Despite being up later than she’d intended talking with Carolyn and Wendy, Victoire arrived at the library promptly at nine the next morning to continue her fruitless research. To her surprise, Fred joined her just before 9:30.

“I told you I’d help you,” he reminded her as she loaded his arms with books. His hair was still damp from the shower and his eyes were a little puffy - he’d clearly been up even later than her - but the smile he gave her was cheerful. “You get yourself into all kinds of trouble when I’m not around.”

She gathered up her own smaller stack and followed him back to the table. The books made a loud thud when they tipped them onto the table, and she sighed. The thought of having to look through all of them, albeit it only specific sections, was deeply intimidating. She was glad she didn’t have to do it alone. “Thanks. I know you’ve got better things to do with your Sunday.”

He shrugged. “I’ve got Quidditch at one for a few hours, but otherwise, I’ll be here.” She opened her mouth, and he added, “Juliet can wait - I saw her yesterday. But thanks for thinking of it.”

She didn’t push further than that - she wasn’t too proud to accept the help when her cousin was offering it, particularly when her anxiety about the comb was beginning to mount.

Their efforts were fruitless, however, and they finally called it a day around five to work on the schoolwork they’d been neglecting all weekend. The only things they’d been able to establish was that the myth about a banshee’s scream being able to kill you might be accurate after all and that stealing their combs was “dangerous business.” Victoire was starting to think that she might have to ask Goldstein about it; she resolved to do so Tuesday if they didn’t find anything the next day, consequences be damned. At least she could probably keep Fred out of it.

She was reminded of her discomfort with Juliet’s giggles in the dormitory the night before when she got back to the common room and saw the other girl slipping up the staircase ahead of everyone else. She decided to take the opportunity to talk to her about showing a little restraint when she talked about him.

To Victoire’s relief and faint surprise, Juliet responded quite reasonably. “I should have thought of that,” she said, boosting herself up to sit on their bathroom counter. “Of course it’s awkward for you. I wouldn’t like to hear people talk about _my_ cousin that way, and you’re very close, aren’t you? I won’t talk about anything too - er - physical - when you’re around. Will that help?”

“Yes,” Victoire said. She was sitting on the edge of their colorless marble bathtub. “Very. And - ah, can you limit it around Caro as well? It’s making her a little uncomfortable, too.” Juliet nodded and opened her mouth, and Victoire added, “But that can start tomorrow. I know you’re still - er - excited about yesterday.”

Juliet’s face broke into a broad smile and she flew across the room to wrap her arms around Victoire. “You’re the _best.”_

There was a knock on the door, and after a moment, the knob turned. Carolyn’s voice drifted through the crack. “Can I come in? I want to wash my face.”

“Sure.”

Carolyn slipped inside and closed the door behind her. She stopped when she saw them; they were both still perched on the white marble bathtub, and Juliet’s face was buried somewhere between Victoire’s chest and shoulder.

“I thought you were going out with _Fred,_ Jules,” the dark-haired girl said, schooling her expression to absolute innocence. “What, did we all mix up Weasleys again?”

“Don’t be silly,” Juliet said brightly, settling herself onto the floor.  “Did you _see_ us yesterday?”

“I did.” They heard the other girls in their dormitory come in. “Why don’t you go tell talk to them about it?” Carolyn suggested.

Juliet burst into the dormitory, pulling the door closed behind her.

The two girls left in the bathroom grinned at each other. “Tell me you asked her not to go on about him,” Carolyn said. “I thought I was going to kill her last night.”

“You and me both,” Victoire muttered, sinking down to sit on the blue and white tiled floor. “She promised to keep physical stuff  to when we’re not here, starting tomorrow.”

Carolyn made a face. “Better than nothing, I suppose. Did you say ‘we’re?’” Victoire shrugged, and her friend broke into a smile. “Thank you.”

Victoire slept poorly that night. As she was leaving the Great Hall with Micah after breakfast, however, Fred caught up with her. “We’ll see you in Transfiguration,” she told Micah when he stopped, and let Fred steer down one of corridors and into an empty classroom. “What’s going on?” she asked.

His face was bright. “I found it.”


	8. Back to the Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Victoire and Fred re-enter the Forbidden Forest.
> 
>  
> 
> _"I’m the best damn cousin ever.”_

Ignoring the small part of her that was a little ashamed that Fred had found the answer before her - she was the _Ravenclaw,_ after all! - Victoire raised her eyebrows at him. Fred chose the _worst_ times to pause for “dramatic effect.”

Or the best, depending on how you thought about it.

After a moment, he relented and yanked a book out of his bag. “Here,” he said triumphantly, opening to a dog-eared page and handing the book over. Victoire decided not to comment on the abuse of what was clearly a school library book - most of her fellow Ravenclaws were firmly of the opinion that books _should not be dogeared,_ but she embraced nuance when one was feeling particularly excited.

She flipped to the page he’d indicated and started to skim the page. About halfway down, she saw something relevant and went back to the start of the paragraph to read it more thoroughly.

_The banshee is one of the oldest and most powerful of magical beings. Her origins date back to at least 972 A.D., where the notable spellmaker Aislin Ua Cleirigh wrote of a woman wailing in the nearby forest throughout the night. In the morning, they found her grandfather dead. Though she does not indicate that the wailing caused her grandfather’s death, many later recorded banshee sightings did espouse that belief; it remains unclear whether the banshee is an omen of death or a cause of it, because controlled study of them is impossible. What does appear clear is that should she like to, the banshee _can_ cause the death of any person foolish enough to cross her or attempt to steal her comb._

_It remains unclear whether the banshee have any connection with other humanoid creatures in the magical world, though there is some evidence that the banshee themselves regard veela as their closest relations. Early accounts even suggest that the first banshee and the first veela were sisters -_

Victoire slammed the book shut. _“Shit.”_ She looked up at Fred. “Why did I pick up that damn comb?”

He slouched against the wall and made a face. “Because you lack good judgment and have no impulse control.”

“What does it mean? That she’s going to come after me?”

He shook his head again. “I’m as lost as you are. But at least I found something, right?”

Victoire managed to put it out of her mind for the next couple days, largely because all of the research had left her horribly behind in her classwork, but she spent half of Friday night tossing and turning. The more she thought about it, the more it felt like an itch that desperately needed scratching, and after being so preoccupied that she lost track of the conversation three times over breakfast, she decided to skip lunch and go down to the lake. Being near the forest made the metaphorical itch a little more powerful, but the absence of noise and people talking to her still made it a net gain.

She’d been there for ten minutes when someone collapsed onto the ground next to her. “Nice weather today, isn’t it?” her cousin asked.

She glanced over at him. It was a chilly enough day that he’d pulled on the slightly mishapen red sweater their grandmother had given him the previous Christmas, and his hair looked even more out of control than usual. “Quidditch practice?”

He grinned and let himself fall back to lean on his elbows. “Yeah, we’ve been at it for three hours. Glad I played over the summer - Amber’s still so out of shape she could barely make it back up to the castle.”

“Shouldn’t you eat, then?”

“Probably. What’s going on? You look tense.”

She made a face and threw the stone she’d been running her fingers over into the lake. The splash it made was loud, and she heard Fred let out a loud snort. She’d never been very good at that.

“Oh, shut up. I wasn’t trying to skip it.”

“You could have been trying, and I doubt you’d have done much better. What’s going on?”

Victoire took a deep breath. “It’s just that stupid comb. I’m… I don’t know.”

“Freaked out?” She shook her head. “Nervous?”

“No…”

“Curious?”

“Yeah. I just don’t know why she gave it to me, and I want to.”

“I figured it was something like that.” He hesitated. “I - oh, fuck it. Let’s go back. It’s the only way you’ll get a real answer.”

She jerked back and stared at him. _“What?”_

He shrugged. The faint worry lines across his forehead told her that he wasn’t joking. “I’ve been thinking it might come to that. It’s worth a try.”

“What if she wants to - like, make me a banshee or something?”

“Well, that’s why I wouldn’t let you go in alone.”

She studied him. He shifted uncomfortably and glanced toward the treeline. He usually wasn’t a cautious person, but something about the banshee had clearly spooked him. “Fred, you don’t have -”

“Oh, shut up. Yes, I do. Let’s not do the stupid dance of ‘you don’t have to’ ‘but I want to’ and just decide when we’re doing it. I vote for tonight.”

Victoire spun toward him and threw her arms around him with such force that they both toppled over. “Thanks,” she whispered.

He let out a loud snort. “God, Vic, what do you take me for? I’m not going to let you do something stupid _alone.”_ He patted her shoulder and then pushed her up. “Calm down.” She opened her mouth, and he added, “And don’t tell me I’m the best, either. It’s bad for my ego.”

“How? I’d have thought it’d be good for it.”

He flashed a grin at her. “My ego’s already being fed more than enough lately. I don’t want to get so cocky everyone hates me.”

 _That_ made her giggle. “Juliet?”

His smile widened. “Mostly, but all the jealousy doesn’t hurt, either.” He considered the still surface of the lake for a moment. “I’m not imagining that, am I?”

“Oh, no.” Victoire drew out the word. “Definitely not. Even a couple of our friends are a little jealous of her, though they’re trying very hard to hide it.”

“Do you know why?” he asked. “I mean, I’m not putting myself down or anything, we both know that I’m amazing. It’s just surprised me a little that everyone else has figured it out.”

She shrugged. “You’re apparently very dreamy. My friends keep talking about your hair and how tall you are and how fit you are from Quidditch.”

“What does Juliet talk about?”

Victoire glanced at him. He was looking very carefully innocent, but she knew it wasn’t just an off-handed question, and she suspected it was at least half of why he’d asked her to elaborate in the first place. She considered calling him on it, but decided against it; she didn’t want to embarass him. “She’s also a fan of your hair and your height and your muscles.” His face fell a little. “And your smile. She _loves_ your smile.”

 _That_ perked him up again. “Really.”

“Yep. I think she said last night that it was her favorite thing about you.”

“Seriously?”

“Uh-huh.”

He fell background onto the grass. “Cool. I mean - yeah.” He stared up at the sky for a few minutes. “Do you think she’d like it if - like - if I dedicated it to her when I score in our first game? I mean - would it be too quick to do something like that? Or make me look stupid?”

“Fred, if you score and dedicate it to her, she will be so excited that I’ll be deaf for a week.”

“Oh. Okay.” A smile started to creep across his face again. “Good.”

When they met near the entrance hall just after midnight, Victoire wasn’t sure whether she was more excited or scared. On one hand, she _was_ a little concerned that the banshee had some nefarious motive for giving Victoire her comb, but on the other… even if the banshee meant her harm, she wanted to know what it all meant.

“I’m the best damn cousin ever,” Fred whispered to her when they got to the edge of the forest.

“I thought you were worried about your ego.”

“Fuck being worried about my ego. I’m the best damn cousin _ever._ If you pick up any more combs off the ground, I’m going to stun you and frame you for setting off fireworks in the Great Hall.”

Victoire considered that for a minute. “Fair enough.”

“As long as we’ve got that clear.” He readjusted his grip on his wand. “Ready?”

“Fred, nothing -”

He rounded on her very quickly. _“No,”_ he hissed. “Don’t even say it. You _always_ say that and it usually jinxes us.”

“Okay, okay. I get it. I’m taking this whole thing very seriously.”

He peered into her face for a minute. Even in the faint light emanating from his wand, she could see the beads of sweat on his forehead. She tried to look properly contrite, and met with some success - he didn’t really calm down, but his breath did get a little more even as he turned back toward the forest.

“I’m the best damn cousin ever.”

“Yes, I know.”

They’d been walking for about ten minutes when Victoire spotted a faint glow ahead. She nudged Fred, who didn’t seem to see it but took her at her word and followed her toward it. They found the same stream she’d originally picked up the comb at. She didn’t see anything this time, but something about the clearing made her feel like they should stay there.

“Let’s wait here,” she whispered to Fred. “I think she’ll be back.” He swallowed hard but nodded anyway.

Victoire’s estimation of her cousin’s courage rose another three notches in her mental rankings, and she resolved to talk him up a little more to Juliet the next day. Assuming they survived this, that is.

It didn’t take long for her suspicion to bear fruit. The glow intensified until they saw the tall women float out from beyond the trees across the stream. When she saw them, she cocked her head to one side.

“Hi,” Victoire breathed. “I - sorry to bother you. I just wondered if you wanted your comb back.” She held out her hand.

The banshee left faint ripples in the stream where she crossed over it, though her feet never actually touched the water - Victoire was watching closely. When it reached her, the banshee reached a hand out toward her. Fred let out a soft hiss but didn’t articulate a protest - she wasn’t sure whether that was pragmaticism because he didn’t want to antagonize the banshee or some kind of faith that touching it wouldn’t actually hurt her, but either way, she was glad - she didn’t want to risk antagonizing the banshee, either.

When the banshee’s very long fingers brushed against hers, Victoire had to stop herself from jumping back. The jolt of cold that started at her fingertips and coursed down her arm and then throughout her body left her feeling as though she were encased in ice.

The banshee closed Victoire’s fingers back over the comb one by one.

“I didn’t mean to take it from you,” Victoire whispered.

The banshee opened its other hand to reveal a second comb. It looked very similar to the one Victoire still held, though this one had two grooves across the top rather than one, and the pearl inlays were white rather than black.

 _It belonged to my mother._ The voice wasn’t just in her head - it clanged through her entire body, and it made her teeth hurt in a way that was not unlike fingernails on a chalkboard.. _Now it is yours._

“Won’t your mother want it back?” Victoire asked weakly.

 _My mother wants nothing. It was mine. Now it is yours._ Her eyes were black as coal.

Victoire had to push a little more, though at this point she was as rattled as Fred. “What does it mean?”

Now the corners of the banshee’s mouth turned up a little. _It is yours, cousin._ Her eyes flicked past Victoire to Fred. _You will come to no harm here._

“But -”

 _It is yours, cousin._ The banshee’s fingers were beginning to sharpen into talons. _You may visit me again if you like._ She moved past Victoire, who was very glad that the breeze pushed the banshee’s long hair in the other direction. She didn’t need to know what the creature’s hair felt like.

She whirled around just in time to see the banshee run a finger down Fred’s cheek. He winced, and the banshee turned back to Victoire and smiled before drifting off into the forest.

Fred’s legs gave out before the eerie glow the banshee left behind had faded, and Victoire rushed forward to kneel beside him. “Are you okay?” She grabbed his arm and peered into his face. His eyes looked unfocused. “Fred!”

For one awful moment, she thought that something was horribly wrong. Her heart was hammering in her chest when he shook himself. “That was unpleasant,” he croaked.

“Are you okay?”

He shuddered and stared down at his hands for a moment before nodding. “Did she even tell you anything?”

Victoire swallowed hard. “Let’s get you out of the forest, okay?”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but he didn’t have the fortitude. Instead, he allowed her to pull him to his feet.

Once they’d gotten a good distance from the forest, however, he stopped her. “What did she say?”

“She called me cousin and said that the comb is mine now. And that I can come visit her again if I want.”

Fred let out a snort. “Yeah, you can do _that_ on your own.”


	9. The Mark of the Banshee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Fred suffers ill effects from touching a banshee.
> 
> _“What the_ hell _did you two get into this time?”_

When Victoire walked into the Great Hall the following morning, she received an unpleasant shock. Her hand had suffered no significant ill effects from the banshee’s touch, though it had been unpleasant to experience.

Fred had not been so lucky. A welt that she could see even from her location near the door marred his cheek where the banshee had touched it, and he still looked a little disjointed as he stared blankly at his empty plate. 

She diverted her path away from the Ravenclaw table and slid into an empty seat across from Fred instead. 

“Hey, Vic.” His voice was flat, and his gaze remained fixed on the pristine porcelain of his plate. The savory smell of garlic, peppers, and potatoes wafting up from the large platters in the middle of the table had absolutely no effect on him.

“Are you okay?”

He shrugged.

“Fred.” He didn’t even bother to shrug this time. _“Fred.”_

His eyes finally flicked upwards. Up close and in the bright light of the Great Hall, which promised a beautiful sunny day, the welt looked even worse. It was also clearly tinted a sickly green, which made her stomach sink.

She reached across the table and tugged his arm. “Fred, let’s go.”

“It’s breakfast.”

“You’re not _eating_ breakfast. Come on.”

For a moment, she thought he was going to refuse, which would have left her in the awkward position of either having to climb over the table or circle back to the foot of the table and then walk up the other side; both were embarrassing in the wrong sort of way, and the latter was also time consuming. Thankfully, however, he extracted himself from the bench after a moment, though he wobbled and seemed to be in significant danger of falling over.

She was about to clamber over the table after all, dignity and manners be damned, but he regained his balance enough to slump down the table toward the door. When they finally met at the foot, she grabbed his arm and steadied him.

They bumped into Lexy on their way out. The other girl took one look at Fred before turning to Victoire and hissing, “What the _hell_ did you two get into this time?”

“Ah - long story,” Victoire managed to grunt. “Can you help me with him?”

Fred was too tall for her to reasonably support on her own, and he was putting more weight on her by the second.

Their friend sprang into action. “Where to?” she asked as she grabbed Fred’s other arm and pulled him upright. “The Hospital Wing? The book room?”

Victoire weighed that for a moment as they struggled toward the deserted corridor, where they were far less likely to bump into any curious students - or, worse, teachers. “Room,” she gasped. She didn’t particularly fancy the uncomfortable trip it would take to get up to the seventh floor, but the Hospital Wing carried too much potential for something to go badly wrong. If they ended up needing an adult, she had far more faith in Goldstein’s ability to handle the situation - this was verging on dark magic stuff, which was his area of expertise, not Madam Byrd’s.

Even if he would stick her in detention for the rest of her time at Hogwarts for this.

Halfway down the hall, Lexy jerked her head toward the deep red tapestry hanging on the wall. Even in the relatively dim light, Victoire could make out the silhouette of Hogwarts and the shadow of trees meant to be the Forbidden Forest. It was one of the most beautiful tapestries in Hogwarts - and one of the most useful. She reached out with her free hand to push it aside, and they sidled past the frayed and blackened side of it and into the passage it hid.

“Fred!” Lexy’s voice was a little too loud for Victoire’s comfort, but she was too busy dealing with the rather more immediate matter of stumbling down the corridor without falling over to say anything. “Fred, _stand up._ You’re a lot bigger than either of us.”

“I am standing up.” His voice was still flat.

“No, you aren’t. We’re supporting you.”

“Oh.” He took a moment to process that. “Thank you.”

Victoire twisted around to look at him. The green splotch on his cheek seemed to be getting brighter in the dim light. She wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but she was confident that it couldn’t mean anything good. It was probably just as well that she hadn’t had the chance to eat breakfast; nerves were starting to make her feel rather queasy.

She loved her cousin - he was probably her favorite person in the world to spend time with. If she’d gotten him seriously injured by dragging him into a forest he hadn’t particularly wanted to go into in search of a creature he definitely hadn’t wanted to find, she was going to be eaten alive with guilt.

When they finally reached the blank wall, Victoire let Fred go and started pacing in front of it. She’d discovered this room the previous year when she’d been looking for a quiet place to study; the door was invisible more often than it wasn’t, which she supposed was why nobody ever seemed to be in it. That was Hogwarts for you, though - the castle liked its secrets.

After her third pass, the wall rippled, and the outline of a door appeared. She immediately shoved it open and helped Lexy haul her cousin through it. She kicked it shut behind them and turned to face the room.

It bore no resemblance to the room Victoire had grown accustomed to studying in. It was about half the size, for one thing, and the heavy oak tables and creaky floor were gone. In their place was a muted blue carpet and several large cushions just to the left of the door.

The room had given them exactly what they’d needed. That prickled something at the back of Victoire’s memory, but she had neither the time nor the energy to examine it. She and Lexy lowered Fred onto the cushions as gently as they possibly could. As soon as they’d done so, they collapsed onto the carpet - which, thankfully, was even more comfortable than it looked.

“This usually looks different,” Fred commented from his place on the cushions.

“Yes,” Victoire agreed. She was dripping with sweat, and Lexy didn’t look much better.

“I didn’t know the room could do this. Juliet -”

Lexy groaned and kicked his ankle. “Get your mind out of the damn gutter. We just hauled you up here because you look half-dead. If you’re alert enough to think about alone time with your hyperactive girlfriend, you should have walked on your own.”

“Probably.”

Victoire sighed. She’d hoped that his comment was evidence that he was starting to regain his sense, but that didn’t seem to be the case. She crawled over to him and poked his shoulder. “Fred, seriously. What’s wrong?”

His eyes were still disconcertingly unfocused. “I don’t know. I just feel…” he trailed off. “I don’t know. Like I’m not quite here.”

Lexy nudged her leg. When Victoire looked down, the way the other girl’s lips were pursed made it very clear that she’d had quite enough of being patient and waiting for an explanation. Victoire glanced back at her cousin one more time before struggling to her feet and following Lexy further into the room.

“Vic, what the hell happened?” her friend hissed. “I saw him yesterday - he was _fine_ yesterday -”

“We went into the Forbidden Forest last night.”

“So? You’re always going into the Forest, you’re both freaks that way.”

“We met a banshee.”

Lexy’s jaw dropped. “You met a _banshee?”_ Victoire nodded. “What did you _do?”_

“Er - talked to it, actually.”

“You talked to it.”

“Mm.”

“Why the fuck were you _talking to a fucking banshee?”_

“Well, we went into the forest to find her. I had her comb.”

Lexy groaned and let herself sink back the floor. “Why in the name of Helga Hufflepuff did you have a banshee’s comb?”

A longer version of the story did absolutely nothing to appease their friend. She kept casting nervous glances back toward Fred, who’d started to hum to himself. When Victoire had finished, Lexy sighed. “So is he going to be all right?”

“Yes. I’m sure he will be. If I have to go back to ask her -”

Lexy put her hand up. “For _god’s sake,_ Victoire, stay away from the fucking banshee!”

After another ten wasted minutes of trying to coax her cousin into regaining his senses, Victoire came to a decision. “I’m going to go get Goldstein,” she said, straightening up.

“You do that.”

Lexy was clearly still quite irritated with her. If Victoire hadn’t been so worried, she would have bristled at the other girl’s hostility - it wasn’t as though she’d _dragged_ Fred into the forest - but as is was, she couldn’t muster up a decent comeback.

Despite significant trepidation, she headed down the corridor to Goldstein’s office. To her intense relief, the door was open, and he was sitting at his desk with a large stack of papers on his left and a smaller stack on his right. She knocked, and he glanced up.

“Sir, can I please talk to you?”

He sighed, and the slight wrinkles on his forehead seemed to become more prominent. “Yes, Ms. Weasley. What have you blown up now?”

“Er - nothing.” She slid into the room and pushed the door shut behind her. His eyebrows rose, deepening the wrinkles that were usually barely noticeable further. “I just - um - I have a problem. I need help.”

He pointed at the chair in front of his desk. “Let’s hear it.”

As soon as she’d nervously perched on the edge of her chair, she blurted out, “I - sir, what do you know about banshees? And what happens when they touch someone?”

That clearly wasn’t quite what he had been expecting. “It’s difficult to say decisively - there’s been very little reputable and substantiated research published about them. What I’ve read suggests that - well, banshees aren’t really of this world, and getting touched by one would probably leave a mark.”

“Like a ghost?”

His eyes narrowed slightly as he considered that for a minute. “Not quite,” he said after a moment, his voice hesitant. “I suppose you could look at them as being on opposite sides of similar coins. Ghosts have chosen to have as little with death as they possibly can being dead themselves. I won’t say that they all make that choice from _fear,_ precisely, but most do - fear of what lies beyond, or maybe just fear of being forgotten. We feel a chill when we walk through ghosts because they’re dead; we suffer no further ill effects because dead or not, they’re rooted in the world of the living. Does that make sense?”

Victoire nodded.

“Banshees are different. Banshees have enough of a foot in our world to have a physical form, but they’ve become a part of death in a way that ghosts can’t be.”

Despite the rather more serious issue at hand, Victoire was momentarily sidetracked. “Become, sir? Weren’t they always that way?”

He shook his head. “Some people would argue that the answer to that question is yes, but I don’t agree. I see no evidence to suggest that our magical creatures are somehow subject to different rules than any other living thing in this world, and quite a bit to suggest that they’re not. Nothing about the world is stagnant - not for Muggles, and not for wizards, either.”

“Oh.” That was a different take on things; Victoire wasn’t sure she’d ever heard an argument quite like that before. She resolved to mull it over later. “So what happens if they touch you?”

“It’s difficult to say. My suggestion would be to avoid it at costs.” His eyes narrowed. “Why?” he asked warily.

“Er - my cousin might have been touched by one.”

_“What?”_

“Fred. He - last night - well, he got touched by a banshee, and now he’s really out of it, and -”

“Oh, for the love of -” He jumped to his feet. “Where is he?”

“There’s this room on the seventh floor - it used to be a library, but now it’s different. It’s by that portrait of the ship in the storm -”

“I know it.” He headed for the door. “I believe Professor Longbottom is in the greenhouses this morning; please go and get him.”

She hadn’t expected this. “But - Fred - I should be there -”

“Ms. Weasley, please go and get Professor Longbottom.” He swept down the corridor before she could reply.

Victoire sighed and set off for the greenhouses at a trot. She gave the Herbology professor an abbreviated version of what she’d told Goldstein, and he’d given her a _look_ before rushing to the book room as well.

By the time they got there, Goldstein was crouched next to Fred, waving his wand as he muttered things under his breath. Lexy was hovering behind them, looking very uncertain and uncomfortable. Victoire joined her as Longbottom knelt next to Goldstein.

Their murmurs were too low to overhear, and Victoire muttered to Lexy, “What happened?”

The other girl was chewing her hair as she watched Fred. “He came in and started waving his wand around and muttering things,” she said, her voice so soft Victoire could barely hear her. “I don’t know if it’s actually helped at all.”

Before Victoire could direct a similar question toward their professors, the two men rose. Before either girl could say anything, Goldstein said, “We need to get him to the hospital wing.”

“Will he be okay?”

“We need to get him to the hospital wing.”

“But -”

Whatever Goldstein had done before Victoire arrived with Longbottom seemed to have made Fred feel a little more like himself, because with a little prodding, he hauled himself off the cushions and followed his Head of House out the door.

Victoire rushed after them, Lexy following in her wake. “Fred, how are you feeling?”

He glanced down at her. He still looked a little vacant, but at least he was walking on his own. “Oh, you know,” he said vaguely.

“I don’t know! That’s why I’m asking!”

He squeezed her shoulder. It was presumably intended to be comforting, but Victoire found herself not feeling particularly comforted. A glare from Longbottom stopped her from saying anything else before they reached the hospital wing, but she didn’t remain so when Fred and Longbottom vanished inside and Goldstein stopped the two girls from following them.

“But Professor, Fred -”

“Is going to be _fine,_ Ms. Weasley.”

“But Professor, he’ll want to see us when -”

“Ms. Abbott, Mr. Weasley will be fine, but he needs _proper care,_ not two teenagers who have no idea what they’re doing.” Lexy winced; she was less used to Goldstein’s occasional harsh rebukes than Victoire was. “Please return to your Common Room; I need to have another word with Ms. Weasley.”

Lexy slunk off down the corridor, though the glare she threw back at Victoire spelled trouble.

There was nothing Victoire could do about it now, though. “So,” she said, turning her attention back to Goldstein. “How much trouble am I in?”

“I have no idea,” he said, sagging against the doorframe. “Ask me later. Or tomorrow.” He lowered his voice. “Is there _anything_ else you haven’t told me that I might need to know? Anything at all?”

Victoire hesitated. It went counter to every rule-breaking fiber of her body to own up to anything more than was strictly necessary, and given that she didn’t seem to be suffering the same the ill-effects Fred was and that the banshee had genuinely seemed almost friendly to her (as far as these things went, anyway), the fact that she’d also been touched seemed to fall well outside the boundaries of what was strictly necessary.

At the same time, she had a feeling that if she didn’t say _something,_ she’d be banished just like Lexy, and she didn’t want that. And, if she was being honest with herself, she really was curious to learn more about banshees.

In the end, she opted for a half-truth. “Well…” She drew the words out. “I don’t know if it matters, sir…”

“Let’s assume that it does.”

“I - I don’t _think_ she touched me, but she did talk to me.”

“She talked to you.”

“In my head.”

Goldstein scrutinized her for a minute. She didn’t even have to feign discomfort; it was never a good thing to have a professor pay quite such close attention to you, because it usually meant that they were about to catch you at something and give you detention.

He sighed and jerked his head toward the sliver of light shining through the crack between the door and the solid stone wall. “Come on.” She followed him inside the hospital wing, and as he closed the door behind them, she could have sworn she heard him mutter, “I need a drink.”


	10. A Stay in the Hospital Wing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Victoire and Fred spend far more time than they'd like in the Hospital Wing.
> 
> _“Hey, Vic.” The mark was still on his cheek and his forehead was damp with sweat, but his eyes seemed alert, which was a comfort. “I hate you.”_

It quickly became apparent that there was absolutely nothing wrong with Victoire, at least not beyond the admittedly questionable decision she’d made to seek out a banshee in the Forbidden Forest.

“You can return to your common room,” Madam Byrd said. Her back was to Victoire, but the girl could tell the school nurse was not particularly pleased with her. Given that Fred had passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow, though, Victoire couldn’t blame her.

“But I - what about Fred?” Madam Byrd and Professor Longbottom, who were speaking to each other in hushed voices next to her cousin’s bed, ignored her. Professor Goldstein did not; he met her eyes and glanced pointedly to the door. 

That just wasn’t acceptable. She wasn’t going to go back to her dormitory with her cousin in this state. “She gave me her comb,” Victoire blurted out.

_That_ made their heads snap around. “She _gave_ you her comb?” Longbottom asked faintly. She nodded, and both he and Byrd both glanced at Goldstein, who was apparently the foremost authority among proper adults on whether Victoire Weasley was lying at that particular moment.

He studied her for a moment. “So she did touch you.” Victoire nodded, and he sighed. “Then I suppose you’ll have to stay, too.”

None of the information she could give them was particularly useful, of course, and after the eighth or ninth question about what they were doing to Fred and whether they really were _sure_ that he would be okay, Madam Byrd had thrust a potion at her and told her it would help her nerves. Since Victoire really was genuinely nervous, she drank it in two gulps. It only occured to her after she’d put the small glass bottle down that ‘help her nerves’ might have been code for ‘make her sleep and stop annoying them,’ and by then, it was too late.

When she woke up, the sun had gotten low enough that the orbs hovering around the hospital wing had started to glow. Most of them were currently clustered near the open door to Byrd’s office; they tended to follow the school nurse wherever she or he went unless specifically told to do otherwise.

She slid herself off the hospital bed and made her way over to Fred’s side. Judging from the way he was surveying the hospital wing, he seemed to have just woken up, too.

“Hey,” she said softly, leaning against his bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Hey, Vic.” The mark was still on his cheek and his forehead was damp with sweat, but his eyes seemed alert, which was a comfort. “I hate you.”

“That’s probably fair.” He chuckled. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

He groaned and pushed himself into a sitting position. “I haven’t missed Quidditch, have I?”

She boosted herself up to sit on his mattress; he inched over to make space for her. “No, Fred, you haven’t missed Quidditch. You can still dedicate your goal to Juliet.”

The broad smile that she continued to feel was a little overkill for someone as silly as Juliet, however nice the other girl was, spread across his face. She didn’t challenge him on it, though.

Victoire had hoped that they’d be out by Monday evening at the absolute latest, so she wouldn’t have to miss Defense Against the Dark Arts on Tuesday afternoon. She got a nasty reality check in the form of Madam Byrd on Monday morning, when she told them in no uncertain terms that the absolute earliest she would consider letting them out was Wednesday evening. Fred clearly felt that this was overkill, but Victoire didn’t join him in complaining - she strongly suspected that any whining from her would have led to her being told to return to her dormitory, since it continued to be clear that while Fred had genuinely suffered ill effects from the banshee, Victoire had not. Fred’s protests also became much less common after Juliet hurtled into the Hospital Wing on Monday afternoon and proceeded to treat him like a wounded hero. Lexy, who joined them shortly after that, spent the entire time sitting cross-legged on Victoire’s bed while they tried to ignore Juliet’s fawning and Fred’s vague boasting.

“Aren’t Ravenclaws supposed to be smart?” Lexy whispered to her after a particularly loud chorus of giggling from Fred’s bed. “I mean, I know that you’re not all just study freaks, but for fuck’s sake, she’s so _vapid.”_

Victoire made a face. “She didn’t use to be _this_ silly. You should hear her at night. Wendy - you know Wendy Morrison, right?” Lexy nodded. “Well, Wendy said she could hear her through _the walls.”_

Lexy threw a disgusted look toward the other bed. “He never shuts up about her, I wanted to strangle him all last week. I hope we stomp them in our first match - I’m definitely not letting _him_ score.”

“If he does, he wants to dedicate it to her.”

Lexy groaned loudly enough that that both Fred and Juliet looked over at her. “Just realized I didn’t finish my Charms assignment,” she told them. As soon as they turned away, though, she made a face at Victoire. “He’s _definitely_ not scoring on me, then. Stupid git.”

Thankfully, Lexy and Juliet’s visits didn’t overlap again; Micah confided in Victoire that he’d intentionally set it up that way while Lexy was happily berating the Slytherin Quidditch team with Fred.

They were finally allowed to leave the Hospital Wing on Wednesday evening; both Victoire and Fred had busy Thursdays, and faced with the spectre of missing their favorite lessons for the second time that week, they managed to convince Madam Byrd and Goldstein that they really were fine to go back to class. The mark on Fred’s cheek had nearly faded by that point, which lent some credence to what they were saying, but Victoire was still a little surprised when the adults agreed to allow them to return to their dormitories, contingent on checking in with Byrd every evening for a week.

Victoire was honestly expecting to end up with detention until they left for the Christmas holiday, but neither Goldstein, Longbottom, nor the Headmistress herself had mentioned punishment at any point during their stay in the Hospital Wing. When she mentioned her confusion about it to Micah that evening as she tried to rush through all the schoolwork she’d left incomplete during her stay, he’d shrugged and pointed out that they probably didn’t want to dissuade them from coming to them when there was a genuine crisis.

After breakfast and a bath the following morning, Victoire headed down the stairs to Goldstein’s office. Defense Against the Dark Arts wouldn’t start for another hour, but she wanted to get confirmation about whether or not she was facing an additional detention - or, worse, a letter home - about the banshee.

Thankfully, his office door was open. When she stuck her head in, he jerked his head toward the chairs in front of his desk and put the parchment he’d been reading aside.

“Ms. Weasley. Are you here to tell me that you don’t have your assignments done?”

“No, I do!” She held up her bag. “I finished them last night. I just wanted to ask - I - er, am I getting detention? Are we, I mean?”

He sat back in his chair and considered her. “No,” he said after a long moment. “Given that you and your cousin just spent most of the week in the Hospital Wing - and that he, at least, clearly _needed_ to be there - detention seems a bit redundant.” She let out the breath that she was holding, and he held up his hand. “I do sincerely hope that you’ve learned a lesson from this.”

“I have. I promise.” The only lesson Victoire was sure she would be taking away was not to bring her cousin with her next time she wanted to talk to the banshee, but it was a genuine lesson that would hopefully avoid this sort of problem in the future. She hoped that no detention also meant no letter home, but she didn’t want to mention it now and put the idea in his head. “Then - er - sir, I have another question.”

“Yes?”

“I - er - why didn’t she hurt me like she hurt Fred? I mean, I don’t think that she _meant_ to hurt Fred, not really, but still - she did.”

The expression on Goldstein’s face changed. Her favorite thing about her Head of House had always been his committment to encouraging his students’ innate curiosity, and when she’d given him the full story in the Hospital Wing, she’d been able to tell that he was intrigued despite himself. “You’re absolutely sure she touched you?” Victoire nodded. “Well, why do _you_ think she didn’t hurt you like she hurt your cousin?”

Victoire hesitated. “I picked up her comb. Maybe that’s why.” When Goldstein didn’t react, she sighed. “Fred found something in a book saying that banshees and veelas are - are related, sort of. Maybe that’s why?”

“It’s impossible to say for sure,” he said slowly, “but yes, that would be my guess. I’ll admit that I hadn’t thought you had enough veela blood for it to make a significant difference, but it appears that you do.”

“Then why did you make me learn the Patronus Charm in my fourth year?” She wasn’t complaining, not really - the detentions she’d gotten for setting the Great Hall on fire with a series of water-resistant fireworks with Fred and Lexy had gone by much faster with Goldstein insisting that she learn the spell, which she’d struggled with - but she’d always wondered whether she really qualified as part-human enough to have dementors and lethifolds be more attracted to her blood. Her parents had seemed to think it was a good idea, though, so she’d done what he said.

“I’ve learned that it’s better to be safe than sorry - particularly given your affinity for finding trouble.”

“Oh. Well, what does her giving me the comb mean?”

“That, I have no idea - though it doesn’t seem to be doing you any harm.” He glanced at the clock. “I need to finish something up before class.”

“Yes, sir.” She rose to her feet. “Ah - thank you.”

“Ms. Weasley?” She glanced back. “If you should find any additional information - through whatever means - I’d be interested to see it.”

She managed a genuine smile. “Yes, sir.”

Either there was a remarkable coincidence between her encounter with the banshee on the syllabus or Goldstein had used it as inspiration to change his lesson plans, because their morning’s Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson was all about how to prevent and treat inadvertent injuries inflicted by magical beings. She, Fred, and Lexy clearly weren’t the only ones who caught the subtext - several of their classmates glanced their way during the lesson, and Gallagher Dedworth caught up to them as they were heading to lunch and demanded the full story. They gave it to him in hushed tones at the end of the Ravenclaw table - he was usually willing to lend his Slytherin expertise to their troublemaking, and he could be counted on to keep things quiet.

Juliet, however, did _not_ get the entire story. Victoire wasn’t entirely sure whether Fred’s failure to share it was more due to his lack of heroics in the actual encounter or a lack of confidence in her ability to keep a secret, but it became clear that she was woefully misinformed over the next few days. Victoire had been so busy Wednesday night that she hadn’t come upstairs until the other girls had fallen asleep, but she heard more than enough fawning over her cousin in the evenings following it, including melodramatic monologues about how brave he was and not-very-subtle pushing for Victoire to fill in the blanks.

Since Juliet wasn’t actually talking about his kissing, Victoire didn’t really feel like she had the grounds to make her shut up, though she really would have liked to - for the glaring inaccuracies and inconsistencies as much as anything else. She ended up making do with a combination of silencing spells and vague comments about magical beings really being quite scary even when it was unintentional instead.


End file.
